


The Royal Romance Book 1

by GrimTamlain



Series: The Royal Romance [1]
Category: The Royal Romance (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon Rewrite, F/M, Slow Burn, a rewrite just so I could love two characters, bertrand is also a dick, couldn't get it out of my head, drake is a dick at the beginning, i needed to be able to love both Liam and Drake, maxwell is a literal puppy, potential light BDSM
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28996119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimTamlain/pseuds/GrimTamlain
Summary: Love awaits in the royal court of Cordonia. Travel to the beautiful kingdom of Cordonia with teh Crown Prince. WIll you accept his royal proposal, or with another suitor command your affections?a rewrite of the Royal Romance visual novels to fit my need to continue to romance both Liam and Drake throughout all of the books. So a lot of it is mostly word for word, apart from where my brain needed to add in my own fantasies lol
Relationships: Drake Walker/Main Character (The Royal Romance), Liam Rys/Drake Walker/Main Character (The Royal Romance), Liam/Main Character (The Royal Romance)
Series: The Royal Romance [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2127126
Kudos: 1





	1. Once Upon a Time

“Just another glamorous New York Saturday night of hauling trash to the dumpster,” Aryavain sighed, as she carried a couple trash bags out the back door of the bar, propping the door open with her foot as Daniel stepped out after her.

“It could be worse. There could be—” He was cut off as small creature scurried beneath his foot, pulling a screech from his throat. “ _Rats!_ Aryavain, help!”

Wiping her hands on her apron after tossing her own garbage bags into the dumpster, she turned in time to see her coworker throw his bags at the small thing, the brown pile of fur scurrying under the fence at the last moment. She let out a laugh as she scooped the bag up and tossing it into the dumpster along with hers.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of this adorable little mouse family,” she laughed, moving aside so that he could throw out his last bag. “They’re trying to get by, just like us.”

“Hey! Aryavain, Daniel! Quit slacking off over there!”

They both glanced back at the back door where the manager stood, tapping his foot impatiently. She ground her teeth together, snapping, “You _told_ us to take out the garbage.”

“And now I’m _telling_ you to wait on the bachelor party that just rolled in. Chop chop!”

Exchanging scowls with Daniel, they went back inside, both taking the time to wash their hands, before moving into the restaurant, and seeing the door open, admitting three men.

“Waitress, there you are! We need your best table!” One of the men exclaimed, spotting her. Her gaze passed easily over him and stopped when she caught sight of the large man walking in behind him. Where the first guy was thin and fashionably dressed in a three-piece suit, this guy was rugged and rough: wearing a pair of faded jeans and a plaid shirt, with a couple days’ worth of scruff covering his face.

“Forget the table. Just bring us whiskey, and lots of it,” he responded, an easy grin crossing his features, before he caught sight of her and stopped, his gaze passing up and down her body, blushing when their gazes caught.

Behind her, Daniel tried to hide a giggle with a cough, before patting her on the shoulder and giving her the table, moving behind the bar to grab her a bottle of whiskey and several tumblers. It took her a moment to meet his gaze, trying to let the blush on her cheeks die down, knowing she was going to be teased for it, but he just smiled at her, giving her a thumbs up. She brought the whiskey and glasses to the table, interrupting their conversation with her greeting.

“Hello, gentleman. I’ll be taking care of you this evening,” she said with a smile, feeling her blush cross her face again when she made eye contact with the rugged man again.

“Steaks for the table, please!” The third man said. The grin on his face, and the way he seemed to vibrate in place gave her the impression that he enjoyed the smallest things in life and was always on the move. She turned her attention to him to respond, when the first man cut in.

“How about some filet mignon, medium rare and prepared with a bearnaise sauce?”

“How about the deluxe burger with all the fixings?” she asked, catching the rugged man’s gaze, and seeing him bite back a grin.

“Dare I ask your wine list?” the first man lamented.

The rugged man let out a laugh, clapping the fancy man on the shoulder, saying, “We’ll be fine with the whiskey, and four deluxe burgers.”

Her eyebrows drew together in confusion, as she asked, “Four?”

He nodded behind her, causing her to turn and freeze just as fast as she did with him. The rugged man was handsome in a working man kind of way, whereas the man that had just walked into the bar had an aristocratic attractiveness. He had blond hair that looked soft to the touch, and as he let his eyes adjust to the low-level lighting, he adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, the muscles in his arms bulging as he did so. When he looked around the room, he grinned as his gaze alighted on the table, showing off an easy smile that had her heart pounding— _and he wasn’t even looking at her_!

He walked towards the table, stopping in front of her, and her breath caught in her throat at how much taller he was than her. He towered over her, and the full intensity of his gaze on her had her heart in her throat.

“Sorry I’m late, gentleman. Thank you for your patience, Miss--?” The accent of his voice was foreign, but not too thick that it obscured his words.

She swallowed thickly, trying hard to remove the stutter from her voice, as she responded, “Uh, Aryavain.”

“Charmed to make your acquaintance, Aryavain,” he murmured, taking her hand, and kissing her knuckles, his blue eyes focused completely on her green ones. “My name is Liam. This is Tariq—” he nodded towards the fancy man. “Maxwell—” who grinned at her excitedly. “And Drake.”

“Trust me,” she said, with a flirtatious smile. “The pleasure is all mine. It’s nice to meet you.” Her gaze jumped between Liam and Drake, feeling her blush deepen before making her way to the kitchen. “I’ll be right back with your order!”

Later, as she was finishing up cleaning the bar before close, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around she came face-to—well— _chest_ with Liam. He handed her the bill, leaning against the counter as she rang in his payment.

“I just wanted to thank you, and apologize,” he murmured, giving her an easy smile. “I know we kept you late, and my friends can be… _demanding_.”

She cocked her head to the side, a confused smile pulling her lips. She glanced over at the table, taking in the way that Tariq stood up and fixed his suit, Maxwell gesticulated wildly as he told a story, and the way Drake poured himself another glass of whiskey his gaze drifting over to her his eyebrows furrowing in a scowl as a blush crossed his skin. 

“Demanding?” she asked, letting out a laugh as she brought her gaze back to Liam’s. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“I got the feeling that you could take care of yourself,” he grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “If you don’t have any other plans tonight, maybe I can make it up to you by buying you a drink. I think Maxwell planned for us to go to a club.”

“Oh?” she said, opening the bill container, and freezing as she saw money that was there to pay the bill, her eyes widening.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, straightening as he saw the distressed look on her face.

She glanced up at him, pulling the bills out and handing a handful back to him. “You paid way too much for your meals,” she replied, cashing out the bill with the remaining money.

He seemed confused for a moment, before smiling softly as he put the money back into his wallet. She handed him the remaining change, and his fingers brushed against her wrist, causing goosebumps to break out across her skin, pulling a soft gasp from her.

“How about as repayment for being such a good Samaritan, I buy you a drink at the club?” he said, letting his fingers brush across her palm before he placed the money in the tip jar.

Her skin tingled where he had touched her, distracted by the sensation as she nodded her head. “Wait,” she said, shaking her head to free herself of her inappropriate thoughts. “What club are you going to?”

“Well, we were hoping you would be able to help with that,” he said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “We’re from out of town.”

She smiled up at him, finding his sheepish attitude adorable. “Well, there’s _Kismet_ , which is the ‘hottest club in town’,” she said, miming air quotes as she said it, rolling her eyes. “Or I could take you to a gorgeous secret cove by the beach.”

“Forget the club,” he said, his eyes lighting up. “The cove sounds perfect. To be honest, I’m getting a little tired of the usual bachelor party antics. Lead the way, Aryavain!”

“Just need to freshen up,” she murmured, moving to the staff washroom. Pulling her auburn hair out of the ponytail she had it in, she used her fingers to comb through her locks, not for the first time wishing she had pin straight hair. Rooting through her bag, she found the deodorant she kept in there and reapplied, pulling her work shirt off to pull on her burgundy tank top. She pulled her leather jacket from the hook behind her pulling it on, happy with how she looked, before meeting the bachelor party outside the bar, locking up behind her.

She turned towards them with a smile, blushing brightly under the streetlights at the way that both Liam and Drake gazed at her. Liam met her gaze with a warm smile, while Drake let out a breathy, “ _Wow_.”

“Wow?” she asked, her tone teasing, as she lifted an eyebrow.

He coughed, looking away from her, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and shrugging his shoulders. “I-I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“That uniform was not doing you justice,” Tariq agreed, elbowing Maxwell gently in the gut.

Maxwell grinned, clapping him back on the shoulder, nodding his head. “The waitress is _hot_ ,” he said.

Liam coughed, glaring at his excitable friend, who held his hands up in surrender. “Her name is Aryavain, and I doubt she appreciates you talking about her like that,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Sorry, Aryavain,” Maxwell murmured, kicking at the ground like a scolded child, glancing at her with a sweet smile. “What I meant to say was, you look lovely. Now let’s get this party going!”

**

The limo dropped them off at the top of the pier, and Aryavain, with a mischievous glint sparking in her green eyes, led them over the fence—with a disgruntled groan from Tariq—down the slope and towards a part of the beach that very few people knew about. Maxwell rushed ahead, dragging Drake behind him, who brushed the excitable man off him before glancing back at Liam with a grin.

“We should build a bonfire,” he said, sounding almost as excited as Maxwell.

“I _refuse_ to do manual labor,” Tariq grumbled, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket, and wiping off a rock, before sitting primly on it.

Drake rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath, “I forgot who I was talking to. What I meant was _I’ll_ go build a bonfire.”

Maxwell sidled up next to her, throwing his arm around her shoulder in a friendly way and exclaimed, “This place is awesome! Let’s go skinny dipping!”

“ _Maxwell_!” Tariq scolded from his perch. Aryavain let out a laugh, patting Maxwell’s arm in a comforting way.

“It’s a little cold to be doing that, today,” she reassured him, watching him slink off to help Drake.

Liam sidled up beside her leaning down to murmur softly in her ear, “Thank you for bringing us here. I can tell the guys are enjoying themselves already.”

She shivered at the way his breath tickled her skin, the tone of his voice made her skin flush a deep red. She looked up at him, his eyes looking black in the light of the moon, her gaze dropping to his lips, watching as they curled up in a knowing smirk.

“I-uh, I bet you’re used to putting everyone else first,” she murmured, her voice huskier than she intended. His hand reached out and took a hold of the hair that was pulled over her shoulder, his smile widening as it caused her to move closer to him.

“Why would you say that?” he murmured, brushing her hair back off her shoulder, so that the curls cascaded down her back, causing a shiver to run through her body.

“I can just tell,” she said, with a shrug, looking up at him under her eyelashes as she smiled, a slight blush crossing her nose. “I’m good at reading people. What about _you_ though? Do you like it here?”

He smiled as he looked over the entire area. “I love it.”

“It’s my secret spot,” she said, sternly, nudging him with her shoulder, a grin pulling her lips. “I’m really trusting you with this.”

“I’ll do my best to be worthy of that trust,” he said, solemnly, holding a hand over his heart, the other in the air. She snorted as she laughed, pulling a grin from him as well. “Though there’s just one problem. How am I supposed to buy you that drink?”

“You’ll think of something,” she shrugged, meeting his gaze again. “Or maybe you’ll just keep owing me.”

“Fair enough,” he responded. “But what should _we_ do?”

“Climb up the cliff.” She pointed to the top of the cliff, taking her jacket off as she moved towards it, dropping the material near Tariq, walking backwards as she called to Liam. “Unless your chicken.”

He grinned back at her, making his way towards her, following her lead, and dropping his jacket next to hers. Finding handholds and places for her feet, she scaled the cliff face quickly, laughing breathlessly as Liam pulled himself up behind her. She sat down on the ground, patting the spot next to her, as she looked up at him. He settled beside her, leaning back on his hands, and staring out across the ocean.

“What do you think?” she asked, her breathing back to normal. He made a noise, and she laughed, nudging him with her shoulder again. “The _view_. Worth the climb, right?”

His gaze heated as he looked at her, lingering on her lips, before he turned back to look at the ocean and the stars. “ _Definitely_ ,” he murmured. For a moment, they both looked out, watching the moonlight play on the waves below as the wind moves through the clouds. The wind picked up, brushing against her skin, causing her to shiver with the cold.

“Cold?” he asked, sitting up, and gently running his hands down her arms, scorching her skin with his touch.

“Just a little,” she gasped, leaning into his touch. His large hands rubbed up and down her arms, pulling a soft noise from her throat, in turn pulling a pleased sound from him. He shifted so that she sat between his legs, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to lean against him. He rested his chin on the top of her head before he also shivered.

“I see that the guys got the bonfire going,” he said, glancing back down at the cove, and seeing a roaring fire. “Let’s head back down and warm up.”

Climbing back down, they grabbed their jackets and sat by the fire, watching Maxwell drag a disgruntled Drake behind him as he handed the rugged man seashells to carry. Drake glanced over at the fire and caught her gaze: she could practically see the flush that crawled up his neck as his shoulders hunched and he looked away quickly. She felt a warm smile pull her lips, tilting her head as she watched him move.

“I never thought my night out on the town would end up like this,” Liam murmured beside her, gazing into the fire, sifting sand between his fingers. He turned towards her, giving her a gentle smile. “You’re really something else, aren’t you?”

She smirked, laying back down into the sand, her arms behind her head, and looked up at the stars. “I’ve decided to take that as a compliment.”

He laughed, turning to look down at her. “Believe me, it is,” he said, earnestly. “Spending time with you tonight has been the most fun I’ve had this entire vacation.”

“I guess that means you haven’t really been enjoying yourself very much.”

“It’s been wonderful, but there’s something missing. I really wanted to do one thing in particular while I was here,” he trailed off, looking back out across the ocean.

“And what’s that?”

He frowned as he rubbed the back of his head. “It’s, well, you’re probably going to think it’s silly, but I’ve always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty.” She sat up, touching his shoulder gently. “It wasn’t really in the guys’ plan, so we just never got around to it. And now it’s my last day here. I don’t mean to sound so ungrateful. It was thoughtful of my friends to throw me this bachelor party. They’ve done their best but I’m not in the mood to celebrate.”

Aryavain reared back, shock written plainly across her face, scooting back away from him to leave an appropriate amount of distance. “This is _your_ bachelor party?” Her tone of voice pulled his gaze to her, and she coughed, pushing her hair behind her ear. “Congratulations.”

He smiled ruefully. “If you knew the whole story, you might not congratulate me so quickly.” She lifted an eyebrow in question, brushing the sand from her jacket. “I actually don’t know who I’m going to marry yet: only that I’ll have to pick my fiancée by the end of the year.”

“Sounds like _The Bachelor_ ,” she laughed, shoving at his shoulder.

“If only it were that simple,” he mumbled under his breath, flushing when he saw her grin at that. “The thing is, Aryavain, I am the Crown Prince of Cordonia.”

Her smile gentled, and she touched his shoulder. “I kind of had a feeling.”

“You did?”

“You’ve got a bunch of fancy guys at your bachelor party who tried to order filet mignon at a bar,” she snorted. She indicated Tariq still perched on the rock, in an animated conversation with Maxwell about the proper way to take care of leather shoes. “He’s wearing a three-piece suit, Liam. There may have been something that told me you weren’t just visiting from Jersey.”

“And you don’t care? Not everyone takes it in stride.”

“I’m not going to let something like that intimidate me.”

He laughed, reaching up to brush a lock of hair behind her ear that came loose with the wind. “You’re fearless, aren’t you? I admire that about you.” She blushed, looking away. “You know exactly who you are. Even better, you get to _decide_ who you are. You could be anything, _do_ anything. What drives you, Aryavain?”

She tapped her lip as she thought about it for a moment. “What I really want is to fall in love. Love is what gives life meaning; the connections that we make, the hearts that we touch.”

“That’s beautiful, Aryavain,” he murmured, smiling warmly.

Looking out at the surf, Maxwell, Drake and Tariq were having fun splashing in the water. What would seem childish, she now knew, was a matter of enjoying something they would never be able to in the eye of the public. She let out a huff of laugher as Tariq whined about his expensive shoes.

“Looks like your friends are having fun,” she murmured, grinning as she watched the three of them run around.

“They deserve to have fun,” he replied, watching them fondly. “Tomorrow, it’s back to Cordonia for the start of the social season.”

She stood up, dusting the sand off her pants, before starting to kick sand onto the bonfire to put it out. “It’s getting late, and I am assuming you’re taking a red eye back home.”

“I’ll take you home, then,” he said, standing up and helping her with the fire.

**

For a Saturday night in New York City, it was practically quiet as they arrived on her doorstep; it was one thing she loved about her building: it was quiet enough at night, that when she got home from work, she could enjoy a mug of chamomile tea as she watched the stars from her fire escape. It was the quietest that she was going to experience in this city.

“This is me,” she sighed, wistfully, looking at the front door, tucking her hands deep into the pockets of her leather jacket, kicking at a pebble on the sidewalk.

“Thank you for your company, Aryavain. Tonight, has been incredible.”

She looked up beneath her lashes as he drew closer to her, leaning into his hand as he stroked his finger across her cheek, studying her face with a fathomless expression. She felt her heart pick up as he cupped her cheek, a dash of impatience surging through her. She reached up, cupping her hand at the nape of his neck, pulling him down so she could kiss him deeply. He made a pleased noise that rumbled through his chest, sliding the hand on her cheek to her chin so he could tilt her head up, so that he could deepen it more. His tongue slid gently across her bottom lip, and she gasped, sliding her fingers into his hair, and pulling him closer to her.

He pulled away, breathing heavily, leaning his forehead against hers. When he spoke, his voice was husky, deeper than before, and a little strained, “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

She let out a breathy giggle, “I try.”

“I’m glad to have met you,” he said with a grin. “I’ll never forget this night.”

**

The next morning, as she got ready for her day, she couldn’t stop smiling. It was a magical evening, but it was time to get back to reality. It was her day off, and she wanted desperately to get a run in—she glanced out the window and smiled, it was the perfect day for it. She pulled on a pair of leggings, running shoes and a tank top, and started her route.

She thought about the bachelor party last night, about the way that Drake looked at her, the way that Liam kissed her, so she didn’t notice the limo parked outside of her work, which was part of her route, until she saw the familiar form of Maxwell step out of it.

“Aryavain! Glad I caught you!” he exclaimed, waving at her excitedly. She stopped in front of him, grinning as she tried to breathe evenly, turning her music off.

“Hey, Maxwell, what’s up?”

“We’re heading back to Cordonia so Liam can find someone to marry and all that jazz,” he said nonchalantly. “But before I go, I wanted to officially extend to you an invitation to join us for the festivities in Cordonia.”

She was baffled, staring at him as if he had grown a second head. “What?”

“You wouldn’t usually be allowed to join, but I want to sponsor you!”

“Sponsor me? What are you talking about?”

He smiled, sheepishly, realizing he needed to explain some things. “I’m from a noble house, but I don’t have any sisters, so we don’t have anyone in contention to marry the Prince. That’s where you come in.” He leaned against the side of the limo casually. “We can sponsor any girl we choose. And you’re my pick.”

She stared at him for a moment, spreading her fingers as she held her arms out, shaking her head with a grin. “You want to sponsor me? Why?”

He sighed, looking up at the clouds. “I’m not just doing it for you. I saw how Liam looked at you last night. I’ve never seen him so happy.” He frowned; his eyes sad as he looked back at her. “Honestly? I don’t want him to lose that.

“We’re kind of crunched for time, though. I’ve got a plane leaving within the hour,” he added, looking down at his watch.

“Right now?” she asked incredulously.

“No time to waste. The opening Masquerade is tonight! It’s the start of the, uh,” he hesitated, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “I guess you could call it the start of the competition.”

“It’s exactly like _The Bachelor_ ,” she sighed, feeling bad for Liam. “What else am I getting myself into?”

He grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “There is some fun stuff! You’ll get to go yachting in the Mediterranean, skiing in the Alps, and dancing in the Royal Palace, or,” he shrugged, gesturing at the bar. “You could stay here.”

He grinned pleasantly as she stared at him, processing the pros and cons of his elaborate offer. Then she remembered the easy way in which she fit in with them last night, the way Liam had looked at her, held her, _kissed_ her… She grinned back at him.

“I’m in.”


	2. Welcome to Cordonia

“You really didn’t have to help me pack, Maxwell,” she murmured, embarrassed, as she settled into the seat of the plane. He laughed it off good-naturedly, patting her gently on the shoulder, before flopping down into a seat across the aisle from her.

“Goes quicker with more people,” he responded easily. He frowned, tapping his chin. “I just don’t know why Drake kept ignoring my calls, though.”

“D-drake?” she sputtered; her face as red as her hair. “You tried to get _Drake_ to help?”

“Don’t worry, Red. I’m too old for panty raids now,” a rough voice growled behind her.

She startled, turning to look up at the rugged handsome man from the bachelor party. She was huddled behind the chair, only the top of her head and her eyes showing over the top of the seat as she stared up at him. His gaze met hers, his eyes dark with _something_ that had warmth pooling in her belly, before a flush creeped up his neck, and he looked away with a cough, walking up to settle in the seat beside her.

“Say ‘goodbye’ to New York and ‘hello’ to Cordonia!” Maxwell crowed, pumping his fists into the air. He pulled a sleep mask out of what appeared to be nowhere settling it over his eyes and falling asleep quickly.

“ _Wow_ ,” she whispered, in awe.

Drake snorted beside her, pulling a bottle of whiskey out of his bag. “He’s an enigma. He can fall asleep anywhere, anytime, but stay up as late as he wants,” he murmured, opening the bottle, and taking a swig. He held it out to her. “We’ll be landing soon, ready or not. And if you’re _not_ ready, those ladies at court are going to eat you alive.”

She eyed him suspiciously, reaching out tentatively and grabbing the bottle, and taking a long pull from it. “Honestly? I’m not afraid of anything.”

He huffed out a laugh, taking the bottle back to take another swig. “We’ll see once we land.”

They continued to pass the bottle between the two of them, in a comfortable silence. She had to admit, she _was_ a little nervous about this; but what did it say about her if she failed? Drake sighed as he saw the frown that crossed her features.

“Look,” he murmured, handing her back the bottle. “No offense, but I’m being realistic. I’ve seen girls like you come and go it never ends well. Not for you, not for Liam, not for the royal family.”

“I’m not some crown-chaser,” she snapped, shoving the bottle into his chest. “Liam being a prince doesn’t matter at all to me.”

He gripped her wrist gently when she tried to pull away, and he pulled her closer to him, their noses grazing against each other, pulling a hitched breath from her. “That’s exactly the kind of naïve thinking that’s going to get you hurt,” he murmured, his voice gentle. Her eyes widened, noticing the sadness in his eyes, her heart thrumming as his thumb caressed the pulse point in her wrist. His voice had a raspy quality as he breathed, “You’re still untouched by the court. Once they get their claws in you, you’ll change.”

She reached up, brushing her fingers across his stubbled cheek, watching as his eyes darkened. “New York didn’t change me; high school didn’t change me. I’m always going to be the waitress from that one bar.”

He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply as he nuzzled into her hand. “You’re more than that, Red,” he growled. She felt as if she was molten, her body tightening as he opened his brown eyes, dark with that same _something_ , causing her breath to catch. Her mouth suddenly dry, she licked her lips, her heart hammering as his gaze dropped to follow the line her tongue made.

“ _We are about to start our descent into Cordonia National Airport_ ,” the pilot murmured over the intercom. “ _If you could please put your seatbelts on, we’ll land momentarily.”_

With a look of regret, Drake pulled away from her, putting the cap back on the whiskey bottle, and stashing it back into his bag. Maxwell stretched with a yawn, pulling his sleep mask off his head, and glancing out the window.

“Hey, look! You can see Cordonia out the window! Aryavain, you won’t want to miss this!” he exclaimed, tapping her on the shoulder.

“That’s Cordonia?” she asked, leaning over Drake to look out the window. He made a choked sound above her, his body going rigid when her hand landed on his upper thigh to hold herself up. Ignoring him, she took in the Mediterranean kingdom. It was beautiful, expansive, and right by the ocean. “It’s like something out of a fairytale!” She turned to look over her shoulder at Maxwell with a grin, before looking back out the window. “The sparkling ocean, the swaying trees—”

“If you burst into song, I’m jumping out of the plane,” Drake snarled above her. She looked up at him, seeing the way his jaw clenched together, looking up at the ceiling of the plane. She pulled away from the window, giving him space, taking him in again. He didn’t untense, his knuckles white as he gripped the armrests, and, as her gaze traveled down his body, she let out a gasp as she saw why he had used the tone he did. She flushed a deep red, embarrassed, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“I’m just saying it’s beautiful,” she whispered, unable to look at him.

“It is, isn’t it?” Maxwell murmured, looking out his own window, completely oblivious. “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be!” she replied, giving him a grin, despite the redness of her face.

**

Aryavain’s gaze was glued to the scenery outside of the windows of the limo as they drove away from the airport. Maxwell sat beside her, eyes glued to his phone, but Drake sat across from, lounging back into the seat, casually, watching her with amusement. She reached to open the window, but his hand covered hers, an amused grin pulling his lips.

“You’re going to fall out,” he murmured, pulling a grin from her.

“Then you’d be free of me so much faster!” she laughed, but kept the window closed.

“We’re coming up on the Royal Palace,” Maxwell said, putting his phone away. “Welcome to your home for the next few months, Aryavain.”

She was dumbstruck as they crossed through the gates onto the palace grounds, taking in the sprawling lawns, the hedge maze, the gardens, not to mention the palace itself. She had lived in New York for most of her life, was used to the skyscrapers, and the mansions and Central Park. But _this_? This was the most extravagant building she had ever seen. She was right when she said that Cordonia was like something out of a fairytale, but she swore that the architect had read Cinderella and made this palace as an exact replica. She heard Drake chuckle at her, but she ignored him, allowing herself this moment to take it all in.

“This is where I’m staying?” she breathed, turning towards Maxwell, her eyes wide.

He grinned at her. “Most of the nobility live here while the social season is underway.” He grimaced. “Including all the ladies vying for Liam’s hand.”

Drake sighed, heavily. “Yeah, living under one roof just makes it easier to attend the rose ceremony later.”

Maxwell rolled his eyes. “I’ll show you to your room, Aryavain.”

“This is my cue to take off. See you around,” he said, winking at Aryavain, before waving back at them as he wandered off. “If you’re lucky.”

Following Maxwell into the palace, she spun in a slow circle, taking in the front foyer, with the grand staircase. She let out a soft sigh, before following the Beaumont up the stairs.

“So, what’s the deal with Drake?” she asked, as she tried to take in all the art and statues lining the halls. “Why is he so jaded?”

Maxwell rubbed the back of his neck, coming to a stop to look out on the grounds, overlooking the pond where Drake sat on the grass, taking turns between sipping from the bottle of whiskey, and reading a book. Aryavain stopped beside him and following his gaze, taking in the form below them.

“Don’t mind him. Drake’s never really—” he snapped his fingers trying to come up with a description. “ _Fit in_.”

“Not used to courtly life?” she asked, feeling a grin spread her lips as she watched him.

“Definitely not,” Maxwell laughed, holding his arm out to her. She placed her hand delicately in the crook of his elbow, allowing him to tow her away down the hall. “He’s a commoner. He’s, well, he’s always been an outsider here. Even if he is Liam’s best friend.”

He came to a stop outside of a door, and grinned at her. “Your room’s here in the west wing. In case you need anything from me or my brother, our rooms are just a couple doors away.”

“You have a brother?” she asked, turning the handle, stepping into the room. She spun around the room, realizing that this room was basically the same size as her entire apartment.

“Duke Bertrand Beaumont,” Maxwell responded to her question. “As the eldest son, he’s the heir and I’m the spare. You’ll see him tonight. He’ll be excited to meet you.”

Aryavain nodded her head, eyeing the bed, a mischievous glint in her eye. “So, this is my room?”

Maxwell nodded, seeing the glint in her eyes, and grinning just as wildly as she was. “You want to jump on the bed, don’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?” she asked, sheepishly. He gestured to the bed, his grin even wider.

“The only thing that’s stopping you is your dignity,” he said, smoothly. She squealed before running and jumping on the bed, sighing blissfully when she sank into the mattress.

Maxwell chuckled, heading towards the door. “Should let you get settled before your debut.”

“My _what_?” she exclaimed, shooting off the bed and halfway across the room to grab his arm.

“I’m sorry, I keep forgetting that you’re not used to all this,” he grimaced, slapping his open palm to his forehead. “The first event of the social season is tonight: The Masquerade. It’s the ball where all the suitors will be presented to the Prince, as well as to the King.

“Not everyone dresses in costume, but you can be sure that the ladies competing for Liam’s attention will be pulling out all the stops.” He glanced at the modest-looking suitcases that had been brought to the rooms when he had been letting her take in the fantastical sights of the palace. “I’m guessing it’s too much to ask if you’ve got a costume or fancy ballgown in there?”

“I packed _a_ dress,” she murmured, staring at the suitcase as well.

He clapped his hands together, his face brightening up, as he dragged her from the room. “Well, I wasn’t sure, so I’ve made an appointment for you at the palace boutique. Maybe you’ll find something you like better there?”

He dragged her through the halls, taking twists and turns that she swore she would never remember, bringing her down a staircase, and then up a different one. She wondered if there was a map of the palace that would help her figure out where everything was. It didn’t help that a lot of the décor was the same.

“Remember,” Maxwell was saying as she tried to orient herself. “Tonight, is _very important_. It’s your chance to make a first impression on all the influential people at court and to stand apart from everyone else!”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this!” she said, adjusting her jacket after he _finally_ let go of her arm. She winced as she looked around the hallway, and mumbled under her breath, “Just have to figure out how to make it around this place.”

“Counting on you!” he crowed, stopping in front of a door that looked like literally every other door in this palace, and opened it for her. “Here we are! I’ll be waiting for you.”

Stepping inside, Aryavain looked around the classy little boutique, taking in the colorful fabrics of all kinds, brushing her fingers over them as she looked at everything. Then a dressing room door opened and out stepped a beautiful woman, wearing only a bra and panties.

“ _Oh!_ ” They exclaimed in unison.

“I am _so_ sorry!” Aryavain gasped, turning around, flushing red. “I didn’t realize someone was already in here.”

The woman laughed; her cheeks flushed a pretty pink, her voice gentle as she murmured, “It’s no problem. To be honest, I didn’t have an appointment. I’m Hana!”

“Aryavain,” she responded warmly, holding her hand out for handshake. Hana giggled, shaking hands with her delicately.

“The seamstress seems to be running late, but I can show you around. This boutique has the most exquisite gowns!” she murmured, dreamily. She slipped on the dress she was holding, struggling a moment with the zipper.

“Need a hand?” Aryavain asked, stepping forward, taking the zipper in her own hand, pulling it up. Hana picked up the mask on the table beside her, and placed it on her face, turning around and grinning at Aryavain.

“Thank you,” she said, adjusting her hair so it flowed down her back. “Not many girls here are like you.”

Aryavain grimaced. “Helpful?”

Hana smiled. “’Nice’.”

She spun in place, her skirts twirling around her, as she showed off her dress, a sparkling pink A-line dress. “This dress is perfect! Now, what about you? There are two I saw before that I think would look absolutely stunning on you!”

She walked towards the rack, pulling out two dresses. The one in her right hand was a Grecian-style white dress, with flowing sleeves, the underskirt made of mesh, a slit up the thigh showing off her leg beneath the mesh; the matching mask was silver, a halo completing the look. The one in Hana’s left hand was the complete opposite: a fitted scarlet dress, with strategic pieces of fabric removed that would show off her skin in an almost scandalous way, paired with a black mask and red devil’s horns. Aryavain sighed as she took in the red dress, throwing caution to the wind and bringing it into the dressing room to try it on.

Twirling in front of the mirror in the dressing room, she felt her cheeks heat up as she saw just how scandalous the dress could be viewed. She took a deep breath in, exiting the dressing room to show off the dress.

Hana grinned at her, clapping softly. “You look hotter than fire, my dear.”

**

Adjusting the mask on her face, Aryavain made her way down the grand staircase, stopping in front of a stunned Maxwell. He looked dashing, in a black suit with red decals on the jacket, wearing a mask that reminded her of a harlequin marionette.

“You look quite dashing, Lord Maxwell,” she murmured, sidling up beside him.

He glanced at her, doing a double take, as he sucked his breath in through his teeth in a soft whistle. “You look amazing, Aryavain!”

She curtsied deeply, earning a pleased grin from him, him bowing in turn, causing her to giggle delicately. He held his hand out to her, leading towards the doors that lead into the grand ballroom. He pulled her hand into the crook of his arm, leaning in close to whisper in her ear.

“One other thing I should mention. As soon as you enter, you’ll tell the herald your name and title so that you can be announced.”

She frowned. “What _is_ my title?”

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “You don’t really have one. But since my family is sponsoring you, then you could technically be considered a ‘lady’.” He tapped his lip. “Or we could go with your hometown. I guess I should’ve asked before. What’s your last name?”

“Aryavain Lightfoot,” she murmured.

“Well, it’s not as classic a name as Catherine Elizabeth Middleton, but it’ll do.”

The doors to the grand ballroom were thrown open, and she stepped through the doors with Maxwell. The herald announced his name, and then turned towards her expectantly. She swallowed nervously, before smiling tightly at the herald.

“Please announce me as Lady Aryavain Lightfoot,” she said, her voice shaking only a little, stepping into the ballroom when he called out her name. Maxwell met her inside, touching her elbow gently.

“I’ve got to talk to Bertrand for a sec. You’ll be okay on your own, right?” he asked, looking into her eyes, to see if she really would be okay.

She smiled. “I think I can mingle without blundering too much.”

He nodded before disappearing into the crowd, and she sighed, looking around to see where the best place to mingle would be. She saw a familiar sparkling pink dress to her right, and to her left—she grinned as she saw a scowling Drake leaning back against the wall, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. She felt her heart pick up as she made her decision to move towards him, taking pride in the way his eyes widened as he caught sight of her dress, before reforming his face back into a scowl.

He gave a stiff bow, his jaw tight as he straightened, holding her gaze. “Good evening, my lady,” he growled, his tone causing heated chills to break out across her skin.

Her cheeks flushed, but she pushed her shoulders back, straightening her spine, her lips spreading in a teasing smile. “So, you _do_ have manners.”

“ _Aryavain_?” He was shocked, his eyes widening, before his gaze trailed over her body slowly. “Is that you?”

“Didn’t recognize me?” she asked, her voice dropping to a soft husk as his eyes darkened as his gaze kept drifting over her. She stepped forward, reaching out to take the tumbler of whiskey from his hand, her fingers brushing gently across the calloused skin of his hand.

“I-I was caught off-guard,” he said gruffly, watching as she took a sip of his whiskey, his gaze focused on her lips. He coughed, looking away. “You clean up well.”

She held a hand to her chest, gasping dramatically. “Was that actually a _compliment_?”

She could have sworn he got whiplash with how quickly he looked back at her, sputtering as he tried to deny it. She covered her mouth as she tried to stifle a giggle, watching the blush creep up his neck, and across the tips of his ears.

“Looking the part doesn’t mean you’re going to be welcome here, you know,” he said, gruffly, taking the glass back from her.

She frowned, feeling that sting more than she was expecting it to. “Well, you’re as charming as ever.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Compared to most of the nobles here, I’m your best friend.”

She snatched the glass back from him, earning her a startled sound, and she downed the rest of the contents, hissing as the burn dragged down her throat. “I believe you,” she said, sullenly.

“That’s the first smart thing you’ve said.”

“Thanks,” she snapped, slamming the glass down on a table, turning to walk away.

He reached out, his large fingers encircling her wrist, pulling her back to him, his eyebrows furrowed in remorse. “Look, I’m not trying to be a jerk. I _am_ trying to help.”

“You have a very peculiar way of helping,” she said, haughtily, her eyebrow lifting as she looked pointedly at her wrist. He loosened his grip, rubbing his thumb across her pulse point, soothingly, causing goosebumps to break out across her skin.

“I’m just saying the things that I wish someone would’ve told _me_ a long time ago,” he murmured, his voice gentle, tilting his head to look into her eyes as he cupped her cheek. She sighed, lifting her head to look up at him, realizing, even in her heels, just how small she was compared to him. His eyes darkened as he brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, before pulling back abruptly. He coughed, putting a proper amount of distance between the two of them.

“Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, I could use another glass of whiskey,” he said, gruffly. He looked her over again, sighing, before adding quietly, “Good luck, Aryavain.”

She scrunched her nose at his use of her name, and he laughed, correcting himself. “Good luck, _Red_.”

Aryavain was grinning as she made her way towards where Hana stood with a group of ladies, snagging a glass of champagne from a passing serving tray, slipping into the group beside her.

“Hello, again!” Hana exclaimed, clinking her own glass against hers. “I’m glad to see you made it!”

“Everyone’s costumes are gorgeous!” Aryavain gushed, dazzled by the expensive outfits around her.

“It’s refreshing to be around someone so excited.”

“Fancy galas are just second nature to you?” Aryavain asked, taking a sip of her champagne.

“When you’ve gone to as many as I have, they can lose their charm,” Hana commented, taking a sip of her own champagne, winking at her above the glass. “Unless, of course, you find the right companions!”

A tall, gorgeous woman strode towards them, slipping her arm around Aryavain’s, and tugging her into her side. Looking up, almost as far as she would have to to look Drake or Liam in the eyes, she froze at the calculating smile curling the woman’s lips.

“Pardon me, but I absolutely _must_ steal her away!” she simpered, pulling Aryavain away from the ladies, cornering her against a wall, her arm stretched out and blocking her in by her head, her other hand resting on her own hip. “Forgive me for being forward, but I’ve never seen _you_ here before. I always notice when the heralds announce a new name.

“I make it a _point_ to know all of the ladies at court,” she continued, pulling the hand from her hip to inspect her sharp-looking red nails. She turned to smirk down at Aryavain. “I’m Lady Olivia Vanderwall Nevrakis, Duchess of Lythikos. Lightfoot, I can’t say I’m familiar with your house. Must be nouveau.” She pushed her lip out in a pout looking sad as she sighed. “Well, seeing as you’re the new girl at court, let me give you some advice. When you’re presented to the King, you should kiss his shoe when you curtsy to him.”

Aryavain couldn’t stop the startled laugh from escaping her throat at the ‘information’. She coughed as she straightened her shoulders but couldn’t quite keep the amused smile from her face, as she squared off with this gorgeous—albeit terrifying—lady of the court.

“It’s Cordonian custom to show deep respect and reverence for the monarchy,” Olivia sighed, tapping her nails threateningly against the wall by Aryavain’s throat. “You’re lucky that I was here to warn you! Otherwise, you’d look completely ridiculous.”

Stifling the giggle that was starting to bubble up in her chest, she smiled sweetly at Olivia, slipping out from her arms—sucking in a breath that felt a lot better than it should have—catching sight of Maxwell rushing over to her.

“Thank you for the advice, Lady Olivia,” she murmured, draining her champagne, and placing the flute on the table beside her. The other redhead placed her hand back on her hip, the other moving to cross her torso, to hold onto her wrist gently, looking regally poised. “I hope to become fast friends.”

Maxwell caught hold of her waist as she started moving away, pulling her into a delicate spin, his grin infectious. She planted her feet, pulling him to a stop, but beneath her hands he continued to vibrate, a physical show of just how hyper he always was.

“Prince Liam is here! Ready to see him again?” Maxwell asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Aryavain looked over her shoulder, catching sight of Liam, smiling as he spoke with Drake. He wore a charcoal grey suit jacket, over a white blazer and buttoned shirt, his mask an aesthetically pleasing mixture of black and white. She felt her heart speed up as she saw him, feeling a tightness in her chest as nerves started getting to her.

“Do you think he’ll be glad to see me?” she breathed, unable to take her eyes off the two handsome men across the room. Looking at Liam, she could believe, if she hadn’t known, that he was a Prince: he held himself with confidence, something only achieved by meticulous training. Beside him, Drake looked just as handsome, but in a casual way, but she had never seen him as carefree as she did now, watching him with Liam—a part of her wondered if she made him nervous.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out, _Lady_ Aryavain,” Maxwell said, tucking her hand into his arm and leading her across the room towards the Prince. He looked down at her and winked. “But I have an inkling of a feeling…”


	3. Reunited

Waking up that morning, Aryavain Lightfoot—New York City waitress—did not expect to be attending a Masquerade ball, in the Royal Palace of a Mediterranean kingdom, trying to win the hand of the Crown Prince, while being sponsored by a noble family. She wondered if she was dreaming, but as Maxwell led her towards the Prince, the way her heart pounded in her chest let her know that she wasn’t. Maxwell hissed, pulling her fingers away from his arm, patting her hand gently.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped, realizing she had been digging her fingers into his arm, anxiously. He smiled at her through a grimace.

“You’re nervous,” he murmured, bringing her to a stop, and brushing her hair back off her shoulders, then adjusting her mask. “Now, I’m going to present you to King Constantine first. You’ll want to make a good first impression on him, so he’ll consider you a worthy match for his son.

“Then,” he added, waggling his eyebrows. “You’ll get your big chance to talk to Liam.”

“Okay,” she whispered, nodding her head at him, swallowing thickly.

He pulled her forward, steering her towards the raised dais where King Constantine sat. Maxwell cleared his throat, bowing low. “Your Royal Highness, may I present Aryavain Lightfoot?”

The King nodded his head, looking expectantly at her. Aryavain heard Olivia’s voice in her head, and ignored her, deciding instead to drop low into a dignified curtsy. Before rising from the curtsy, she lifted her head, smiling warmly as she murmured a soft, “Your Highness.”

The King smiled at her. “It’s a pleasure to meet the suitor Lord Maxwell’s house has chosen. I hope you enjoy your time in Cordonia.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, stepping back, and allowing Maxwell to lead her towards the line of ladies waiting to see the Prince.

The line moved quickly until it was her turn. Taking a deep breath in, she stepped forward, alone, and curtsied in front of Liam, catching Drake eyeing her from the corner of her eye. Liam held his hand out to her, pulling her to her feet, brushing his lips across her knuckles.

“Forgive me, but I don’t think we’ve met,” he murmured, trying to figure out who she was behind the mask.

She smiled coyly, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. “And how does a prince greet a beautiful mystery woman?”

“With a kiss on the hand, I hope?” He grinned at her, pulling her hand back to his lips, keeping his eyes on hers. “Now, I believe I know every other lady here, so your very presence is baffling me.

“I can’t stop my mind from racing. Is she a high-ranking aristocrat from a distant country? Or a wealthy woman of the world?” From the corner of her eye, she saw Drake snort into whiskey glass, moving far enough away to avoid the conversation. Liam’s smile grew larger. “So, who are you? What brings you here?”

“You brought me,” she murmured, trying to avoid letting out a giggle. “I think all the women here tonight are here for you.”

He looked at her thoughtfully. “In a manner of speaking. But no one’s surprised me yet like this.”

She allowed herself to giggle. “You’ll be even more surprised when you figure out the truth.”

“And what is that?”

“No guesses yet, Prince Liam?”

As his name dropped from her tongue, his eyes widened in shock, before a pleased grin crossed his lips, the hand that still held hers tightening a fraction. “ _Aryavain_ ,” he rasped, his eyes darkening behind his mask. “I guess it really is true that the stars shine the same no matter where you are.”

“How poetic,” she teased, squeezing his fingers back.

He reached up to touch her cheek, but pulled back jerkily, when he realized where they were. “Would you believe me if I said poetry was not something I was good at?”

She grinned, biting her lip gently. “You would be too perfect if you were good at everything.”

He smiled warmly at her. “How did you get here?”

“The Beaumont’s are sponsoring me. Maxwell brought me to join the other suitors.”

“Really?” his voice was small, as if trying to hold back his excitement. He let out a breathy laugh. “I can’t believe you came all this way for me.”

“Liam,” she murmured, her fingers twitching to touch his cheek. “I know we have something special. I want to see what it can be.”

“I feel the same way,” he whispered, reaching out to touch her hand again, his fingers brushing softly across her skin, causing her pulse to quicken and her breath catch. Behind him, a guard cleared his throat. Liam sighed. “We’re not in New York anymore, though, Aryavain. The rules here are different.

“This entire series of events is set up not just to give me time with my potential matches, but also to have my parents, the Council, and the people of Cordonia time to get to know the future queen.” He frowned; his eyebrows drawn up in sadness. “From now on, everyone will be watching you.”

She swallowed nervously, chewing on her bottom lip. “Sounds a little intimidating.”

“I’m sorry I can’t make it easier for you, but for what it’s worth—” he lowered his voice so only she could hear. “—you definitely look the part. I’m sure you’ll charm them just as you’ve charmed me.

“Unfortunately, the receiving line isn’t the best place to talk. We only have a few more minutes before the next lady arrives.”

“In that case,” she murmured, smiling coyly, looking up at him beneath her lashes. “Are you glad I came?”

“How could you even ask?” he asked, grinning at her. “I’m thrilled. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you at all the events. I just hope you don’t regret coming here.”

Another suitor stepped up behind her, and she let out a sigh. “We really aren’t in New York anymore, are we?”

His smile was sad. “I hope I’ll see you again later tonight, if you’ll save a dance for me.”

Aryavain turned, and strode down the steps, Maxwell sidling up beside her, tucking her hand back into the crook of his arm, leading her towards the bar. He continued to vibrate against her, something that was actually starting to become a comfort.

“Liam looked _really_ happy to see you.”

“Was it a wise decision to bring me all the way out here?” she asked, as they got the bar, ordering a whiskey for herself.

Maxwell ordered a champagne, clinking their glasses together. “I have no doubts about this. My brother, Bertrand, and I will be there to help you every step of the way. Remember,” he murmured, dropping his voice, leaning in conspiratorially. “We want you to win this thing.”

His grin was infectious, she couldn’t help but smile back. He took a sip of his champagne and looked out across the ballroom. “For now, it’d be a good start to get to know the other courtly ladies. They’re your competition, but you might be able to make some of them your allies.

“Bertrand and I are helpful, but the more people you can get on your side the better,” he added, looking back at her.

Aryavain glanced back at the ballroom, seeing Hana, Olivia and a group of ladies making their way outside. She downed her whiskey, shuddering as it burned down her throat, before kissing Maxwell on the cheek.

“I’m on it,” she said, turning and following the ladies outside, taking a moment to take in the grounds again, before moving to the ornate table display to grab a flute of champagne, moving up next to Hana.

“Aryavain,” Olivia’s voice cracked through the serene night, startling her a little. She towered above her, her hands on her hips, glowering down at her. “You were awfully familiar with the Prince. You didn’t say that you knew him.”

Aryavain stepped back, putting space between the two of them, before taking a nonchalant sip of her champagne. She smiled sweetly up at the taller redhead. “Can we go back to how you lied to me about kissing the King’s shoe?”

Olivia glowered at her, before breaking out into a laugh. “That was hilarious, wasn’t it? Come now, you can’t begrudge me for a little prank. You _are_ the new girl, after all.”

Aryavain sniffed, daintily, looking over the brim of her glass at Olivia. “Here I thought I left high school over a decade ago.”

Olivia scowled, crossing her arms. “Listen, you should know that whatever happened between you and Liam, you don’t really have a chance with him,” she turned away to grab another champagne, downing it smoothly. “You might’ve been able to capture his attention when it was just the two of you, but you can’t keep up with the ladies here.

“We’re from the finest families in Europe, and we’ve been training and preparing our whole lives to marry a prince. You can’t just waltz in here at the last minute and steal him from us.” She turned and indicated a beautiful woman to her right, who smiled politely, her long black hair straight down her back, her skin a beautiful shade of umber. “Kiara here is the daughter of a diplomat and is fluent in ten languages.”

She indicated the pale woman beside the diplomat’s daughter, sniffing as she said, “Penelope can track her lineage back through six hundred years of royalty.”

Olivia’s smile sharpened as she indicated Hana, who was trying desperately to fade into the background. “Even Hana’s been training to learn the courtly graces of conversation and seduction.”

Hana grimaced behind her champagne flute. Penelope sighed dreamily, saying, sweetly, “But if anyone’s got the inside track with Prince Liam, it’s you, Olivia. You’ve known him his entire life.”

Olivia preened, standing straighter, therefore taller. “It’s true. We grew up at the palace together as childhood friends.” Her gaze caught on Aryavain’s her smile as sharp as her nails. “Before his older brother abdicated, it was just assumed Liam and I would be married one day. I’ve got no intention of losing him to one of you harpies.”

She took a sip of a new glass of champagne. She smiled, before adding, “No offense.”

Aryavain looked at the group of ladies, who all looked at their drinks, all crestfallen. She let out a disgusted sound, turning back to Olivia.

“I can’t believe the rest of you let Olivia talk like this,” she said, standing as tall as she could, which compared to the ladies around her, was moot.

Penelope shrugged. “She’s only stating the facts. There’s no point in being emotional about it.”

“We all knew what we were getting ourselves into when we came here, Aryavain,” Kiara chimed in, frowning at her. “Didn’t you?”

Olivia let out a delighted laugh. “Don’t worry, ladies. I’m sure little Aryavain will learn her place here, eventually.” Her expression hardened as she shattered the flute in her hand, effortlessly. “Or else I’ll make her life a living hell.”

“And what exactly is my _place_ here?” Aryavain snapped, downing the rest of her champagne, before crossing her arms under her chest, feeling her hands starting to shake.

“Oh, somewhere below Penelope and Kiara, but you know what?” She sneered in Hana’s direction. “Probably above Hana. Though I’m surprised Hana’s here at all after what I heard about her last attempt at an engagement.”

Hana made a startled noise, Aryavain could practically _feel_ how tense she got. Olivia just waved her off, scoffing.

“Well, we all know that your family will throw you at any available bachelor as long as it means you can climb another rung on the social ladder,” Olivia sneered at her. She sighed, looking at her nails, bored. “But, honestly, it’s a bit much to expect that Prince Liam is going to accept ‘damaged goods’.”

Hana’s face turned bright red, her eyes wide, before tears starting swimming in their brown depths. She let out a desperate excuse to leave, before pushing passed everyone, walking speedily towards the palace. Aryavain scowled at Olivia, before rushing off after her.

“Hana!” she called, grabbing her arm, and pulling her to a stop. “Wait! I’ll go with you.”

She sniffed, her smile wobbly. “That’s awfully sweet, but I-I’ll be fine.”

She shook her head, walking delicately up the steps, and into the palace, leaving Aryavain staring after her for a moment. She turned back towards Olivia.

“Girls like her shouldn’t bother being here if they can’t handle the truth,” Olivia murmured softly, with a well-rehearsed pout on her face.

“Olivia,” Aryavain snapped, before taking a calming breath, and continuing primly. “You’re acting like a child, not a queen. If this is how you behave, I wouldn’t trust you with childproof scissors, let alone a kingdom.”

Olivia gasped, shocked. “I—you can’t--!”

“I just did,” Aryavain snapped, cutting her off. She turned towards Kiara and Penelope, nodding her head at them. “If you’ll excuse me,” she murmured, shooting another nasty look at the redhead. “I’m going back inside. _Alone_.”

Olivia shrugged with a sniff. “Suit yourself.”

Making a disgusted noise, Aryavain turned on her heel, marching back inside, fuming, cussing out the redheaded Duchess under her breath. She sighed, wondering if Hana was okay. Her thoughts scattered when Maxwell popped up right in front of her, startling her.

“There you are!” he crowed, bouncing up towards her, stopping abruptly when he saw her expression. “You look _upset_.”

She rolled her shoulders, twisting her neck and relaxing a fraction when it cracked. “That’s a word for it,” she ground out.

“Well, no time to brood!” he said, grabbing her hand, pulling her into the ballroom. “The last dance is starting up, and I think you and Liam deserve this one.”

As the opening strains of a waltz start up, she caught sight of Liam talking to Penelope, noticing for the first time the straining in his jaw as he kept his smile polite. Aryavain felt a smile curl her lips as she watched the two of them, feeling her heart swell as Liam tried desperately to hold a conversation with the woman who was talking about—Aryavain had to stifle a giggle— _poodles_.

Walking closer, she caught the tail-end of Penelope’s statement, “—and of course, _you’re_ looking dashing tonight.”

“It might be a little rude to cut in, but—” Maxwell started.

Aryavain smiled, pushing her shoulders back, giving him a dazzling smile. “Say no more.”


	4. Save the Last Dance

“And that’s how my family acquired its fifth golden poodle statue!” Penelope finished, letting out an excited titter, the sound genuine.

Liam chuckled himself. “I can relate. Don’t get me started on the queen’s antique goblet collection—”

He was cut off when he caught sight of Aryavain, the sultry smile curling her lips as she moved towards him, hips swaying with her movements. The intensity of her smile warmed as she looked at him, coming to a stop beside Penelope, her eyes only on him.

“Excuse me, may I cut in?” she said, barely even a question, not even bothering to look at the noble lady who deflated beside her, her green gaze focused solely on the Prince.

“If you must,” Penelope murmured with a pout.

“I must,” Aryavain said absently, not even registering the woman slinking away, unable to take her eyes off the Prince. Liam took her hand pulling it up to his lips to place a lingering kiss on her knuckles, his gaze never leaving hers.

“You handled that very well,” he murmured, a mischievous glint dancing through his blue eyes.

She shrugged her shoulder, giving him an adorable smile. “I try.”

“You do more than that,” he murmured, leading her towards the dance floor, his free hand held behind his back. “Honestly, you seem as comfortable here as you did back in New York.”

She preened under his praise, lifting her chin as he pulled her to a stop, pulling her flush against him. She gasped, her free hand touching his hard abdomen, flushing a deep red at the low rumble in his chest, before he maneuvered the hand on his stomach to his shoulder, before sliding his fingers up her arm to her shoulder, and down her back, to rest warm and heavy on her waist. The orchestra started playing a dreamy waltz, making her head feel just as fuzzy as his scent made her.

“I don’t—I’m not sure I know the steps, Liam,” she said, nervously, swallowing thickly as she looked up at him.

He grinned, making a sound of delight. “Just follow my lead, Starshine. I’ve got you.”

She sighed, dreamily, and with his arms around her, she matched his movements fluidly, letting out a delighted noise when her skirts billowed out around her as he spun her around the room.

“I’m very glad that I got a moment alone with you,” he murmured.

“Well, relatively alone,” she giggled, allowing her hand to slide further up his shoulder to cup his neck gently. “There’s only about a hundred people watching us right now.”

He grinned, twining their fingers together as he continued to lead her in the waltz. “Unfortunately, it’s about as much privacy as we might expect. Though I do have a trick up my sleeve.”

He spun them around, leading her across the ballroom, waltzing the two of them straight out a set of French doors, to an unoccupied balcony. He twirled her to a stop, leaning her back into a dip, before pulling her back up, letting out a breathless laugh.

“We can get a little more privacy out here at least,” he said, letting go of her hand to wrap around her waist, pulling her flush against him again.

“Nice moves,” she whispered, breathlessly, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He reached up to brush a piece of her red hair behind her ear, before pulling her to sway with him. “Now, I want to know how you are,” he murmured, shivering against her, when her fingers trailed from his neck, down his chest. “I trust you’re being well taken care of here?”

She smiled, leaning her head against his chest, and closing her eyes, comfortable for the first time since his bachelor party. “Maxwell’s been very sweet so far. He flew me out here and set me up with a room and everything. I haven’t even met his brother yet,” she murmured.

“Ah, The Duke,” Liam said, sagely. “He’s _different_ from Maxwell. More serious. But their house has an excellent reputation, mostly due to him.”

She made a noncommittal noise, pulling back to look up at him again, reaching up to brush her fingers against his cheek. He reached up and cupped her hand, nuzzling his face further into her palm, placing a kiss against her palm.

“What about Cordonia? What do you think of my home so far?” he asked.

“Cordonia?” she asked, taking a moment to think about it. “I love it.”

“Really?”

“It’s beautiful, Liam,” she grinned. “I love the architecture, the elegant events, the music. It’s like something out of a fairy tale.”

He smiled warmly, pressing another kiss to her palm. “I’d hoped that you would love Cordonia as much as I do. It’s, well—it’d be rather unfortunate for a queen to dislike her kingdom.”

Her grin was sly, as the swaying stopped. “I guess that’s a pretty important quality in a queen-to-be.”

He pulled away from her, and looked out over the grounds, his expression sad. “Especially given Cordonia’s recent history.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed. “These last few decades have been somewhat rocky for us. The first queen abandoned my father and my older half-brother,” he shook his head. “I’m not clear on the exact details.”

“Do you know why she left at least?” Aryavain asked, stepping up beside him, leaning back against the railing. He looked over at her, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“She couldn’t handle the pressures of courtly life,” he murmured. “She came from a lesser noble family, so she hadn’t been long at court before the marriage. And my own mother, well.” He cleared his throat. “She passed away when I was still a child.”

She reached out to touch him but drew her hand back unsure. “You lost your mother? I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago,” he said, stiffly.

She smiled, softly. “The amount of time doesn’t matter, Liam. I lost both my parents in an accident when I first started college. It gets easier with time, but it still hurts.”

He looked at her with a new light, cocking his head to the side. He smiled, joining her to lean against the railing, watching the dancers through the doors. After a moment, she turned to look at him, brushing her shoulder against his arm.

“So, the current queen?” she asked.

“She may not be my mother, but she is a wonderful woman who’s done her best to lead Cordonia alongside my father,” he said, fondly. “Instability in the monarchy is always dangerous for a small kingdom like ours.

“Weakened currency, a rise in crime, a drop in tourism,” he frowned, looking up at the stars. “All because of the lives of the rulers.”

“So, that’s why you care so much about finding the right queen,” she murmured, nodding her head in understanding.

“Exactly,” he said, his frown deepening. “I can’t just follow my heart: as much as I might want to. There’s too many other people I need to think about.” He took a deep breath in, shaking the melancholy away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to burden you with this.”

“Liam,” she murmured, touching his shoulder. “You can tell me anything. I’m here for you. You’ve got a lot resting on your shoulders.”

He was relaxed under her hand, and he turned to look into her eyes. “True, but I can at least take a moment to sprinkle in tales of my misspent youth.”

She grinned, squeezing his shoulder gently. “I wouldn’t mind hearing those either.”

He took a moment to think, before a grin pulled his lips, letting out a huff of laughter. “One summer when I was only eight, my father decided to throw me into the rigors of governing. He made me sit through hours of meetings for three weeks straight. Finally, I couldn’t take another minute.” He let out another laugh. “I decided to liberate myself.”

“Wait,” Aryavain laughed. “ _You_ played hooky?”

“Yeah. Drake and I stole a monster supply of chocolate from the kitchens, and we hid out in the gardens,” he continued, his grin infectious. “We spent the evening making up games to play in the garden maze. Our best one was maze-tag.”

He leaned over her, and pointed to her right, indicating the maze that could _just_ be seen. She let out a laugh as she followed the direction he was pointing in. “Maze-tag? Let me guess,” she said, pretending to think it over. “You played tag in the maze?”

“You’ve got it!” he said. “Not our most cleverly named game, but whoever was ‘it’ had to run after the other person in the maze. You lost if you were ‘it’ by the time the other person got to the center.

“We played that for hours, until we nearly collapsed from exhaustion. But we were too stubborn to go back,” he said, shaking his head. “We used the last of our strength to climb up the tree in the center of the hedge maze and vowed to live out there. We fell asleep in that tree, and I only woke up when I fell of the branch and landed flat on my back, swearing up a storm.” He turned to look at her, sheepish in the light of this revelation. “I hope this doesn’t destroy your image of me as a proper prince.”

“What surprises me,” she said, turning to him with a giddy grin. “Is you know any swear words. You’re always so proper.”

“Maybe in front of you,” he teased.

“Well, I certainly would like to meet the Liam who plays hooky and sleeps in trees.

“I miss those carefree summers,” he said, wistfully. “But I’m afraid those days are behind me.”

As the next swell of the waltz drifted through the doors towards him, he held his hand out to her and led her back into the ballroom, managing to sneak in discreetly. He pulled her to him, swaying with her to the music as it started to wind down. He reached up and caressed his fingers across her cheek, looking at her longingly.

“This song is coming to an end, and the Masquerade along with it,” he murmured, taking her hand, and cradling it to his chest, holding her as gently as possible. “We’ll have to say goodnight soon.”

“Is this how it’s going to be for the next few months?” she wondered aloud, sadness pulling at her features. “Stealing a couple minutes here and there?”

He frowned as he looked down at her, squeezing her fingers. “As I said, things are different here. I should spend some time with the other girls to be fair to them. But believe me when I say,” he murmured, leaning closer to her ear, his breath warm against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. “I wish this night didn’t have to end.”

She pulled back to smile coyly at him, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Who says it has to?”

He grinned, his eyes searching hers. “I’m very curious about that gleam in your eye. What are you proposing?”

“Would you like to meet me at the garden maze?”

“Yes,” he breathed. He frowned. “But my bodyguards would never allow me to go out there alone.”

She laughed easily. “You wouldn’t be alone. I’ll be there.”

“They’d probably like that even less,” he murmured, trying to hide a grin. “We shouldn’t.”

“Then why are you smiling?” she asked, a smile gracing her own features.

He smirked at her; his eyes dark as he gazed into hers. “Because we both know how much I _want_ to.”

“In that case,” she pondered. “I’ll be out there in twenty minutes. I hope I won’t be alone.”

“Aryavain,” Liam growled, his voice raspy.

“Yes?” she asked, innocently.

The waltz came to an end, and everyone in the ballroom started applauding. Aryavain’s innocent smile still graced her lips as she turned to walk away, when he grabbed her wrist, twirling her back into his arms, his lips hovering just above hers.

“I’ll see you in twenty,” he rumbled, before letting her go. She bit her lip, hiding a smile, before making her way through the ballroom, along the outer edges, slipping out easily through the doors. Making her way towards the maze, a large hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her deeper into the shadows thrown by the palace. She was shoved against the rough wall, a hand over her mouth, covering the startled sound she made, before a familiar voice made her sag in relief.

“You have to be careful, Red,” Drake’s voice growled in her ear, his hot breath brushing against her skin, causing her entire body to heat up. He eclipsed her body, his left hand resting against the wall by her head, his right hand moving from her mouth to rest heavily against the base of her throat, towering over her. She felt her heart rate pick up, wondering if it continued to do this if she would have a heart attack. But then his thumb brushed against the pulse point in her throat, and a desperate whine escaped her, her eyes fluttering closed. He made a startled sound, and her eyes shot open, her cheeks scalding as she blushed.

Her voice was higher than normal when she asked, “Careful of what, Drake?”

He leaned forward, his lips hovering above hers, his fingers caressing her skin, before he shoved himself away from her, breathing heavily. He started walking away. “Just be careful,” he called over his shoulder.

She frowned, watching him walk away, before huffing out a breath and making her way to the hedge maze. As she came up to it, she was amazed at how well groomed it was, taking a moment to let her mind wonder how they did it, never having been one for gardening, let alone landscaping. She heard a gentle cough behind her, and she turned smiling.

“Cutting it a little close there,” she said, trying for stern, her smile ruining it.

“I was trapped in a conversation about table seating for tomorrow’s picnic, but I managed to tear myself away for you,” he said, matching her grin. He held his arm out to her, which she took delicately, stepping into the deeper shadows of the maze, lit with what looked to be little fairy lights.

“It really is beautiful here at night,” she murmured, reaching out to let her fingers brush gently against the leaves of the hedges.

His right hand rested lightly against the one she had curled around his arm, patting it gently. “I wish I could take the credit, but the gardens out here were my mother’s vision.” He frowned, looking at the flowers growing in the hedge intermittently. “I think it was her last wish before…well.”

He sighed. “Sometimes when I stroll this garden at night, I think of her.”

She followed his gaze to look up at the stars, squeezing her fingers against his arm. “I’m sure she appreciates that.”

He looked down at her, his expression fathomless. “The garden holds a lot of good memories as well.”

She laughed. “The infamous games of maze-tag.”

“You probably think it’s silly, don’t you?” he asked, smiling sheepishly at her.

“Actually, sounds like a lot of fun,” she murmured, looking away so he couldn’t see the mischievous glint in her eye. She pulled her hand from his arm, using him to lean against, as she bent over to take her heels off. Straightening, she held them both in her left hand, holding her skirt up in the same hand. He watched her quizzically, and she just grinned up at him, shoving him in the shoulder, before tearing down the maze path, shouting back over her shoulder, “Tag! You’re it!”

He let out a booming laugh, chasing after her, calling out, “Cheater!”

She let out a squeal of laughter as he caught up to her, close to catching her. Up ahead, the hedges became smaller, showing several gorgeous flower beds, before the ‘real’ entrance to the maze was, with a patch of wet grass leading straight to it. Tearing across the grass, she managed to pull out further ahead of him, surprised that her peals of laughter weren’t slowing her down. Weaving through the maze, she could hear him keeping up with her; her innate sense of direction stopping her from taking a wrong turn into a dead-end. Rounding the last corner, a straight path would lead her to the center of the maze, where a swing swayed prettily from a large tree.

She had paused to take in the view, and heard Liam come up quickly behind her. Taking off like a jackrabbit, she raced towards the tree, a delighted giggle ripping out of her.

“I’m going to win!” she laughed, looking back at him.

“It’s not over until it’s over!” he called to her, catching up just enough to be able to tackle her. Letting out a delighted screech as his arms wrapped around her, the two of them rolled to a stop in front of the swing. She managed to pull herself to a seated position, straddling his waist, her hands resting gently on his chest. He laughed, as he said, “We made it to the center of the maze.”

She laughed, breathily, her chest rising and falling rapidly, leaning back just enough to not pant in his face. “I do believe I win.”

“How do you figure that?” His voice was rough, smiling up at her, his eyes dark.

“I’m on top,” she murmured, shrugging her shoulders cutely, popping her lips on the last letter.

“I can’t argue with that,” he murmured.

“So, don’t.”

As he gazed up at her, he grew serious, his left hand reaching up to touch her thigh, his right moving up to brush her hair back over her shoulder. “There’s something about you,” he murmured, his voice still rough with the same _something_ that was in his eyes. “It just feels—it feels right to be around you.”

“Liam,” she breathed, her voice husky. “I feel the same way.”

“ _Aryavain_ ,” he whispered, reverently, reaching back up to cup her cheek, his fingers warm against her skin.

Leaning down, she brushed her lips gently against his, a barely there touch, and then his hand was in her hair, pulling her down to deepen the kiss. The hand on her thigh, moved up to cup her hip, slotting her perfectly against him, pulling gasps from them both. His tongue swiped across her lip, parting them gently, his hand on her hip tightening, pulling a desperate sound from her. His hand tightened in her hair, before he pulled her back, away from him.

“We _shouldn’t_ ,” he whispered, his eyes closed, as he tried to catch his breath. “I don’t know what will happen, and I—”

She huffed out a breath, trying to control it, leaning back, and looking up at the sky. “ _I know_.”

She scrambled off him, wiping her dress off, before putting her shoes back on. He stood up slower, brushing himself off, before grabbing her attention again.

“What is it about you, Aryavain?” he asked, stepping towards her, but stopping an arms-length away. “When you’re around, you make me want to break all the rules.”

She smiled, looking up at him beneath her lashes. “Maybe you need someone like that in your life.”

“Maybe I do,” he chuckled. “This was… _unexpected_ , but somehow perfect.”

“You laughed more in this maze than you did all night in that Masquerade,” she murmured, looking up at him shyly.

He smiled warmly at her. “I guess I needed this. Thank you.”

“I had fun too.” She looked at him questioning. “Will I see you soon?”

“Yes,” he rumbled, taking her hand, gently. “Tomorrow. It’ll be very busy, but I’ll find the time.”

She smiled sweetly up at him. “I look forward to it.”

Lifting her hand, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles, a gleam dancing in his eyes as he looked at her. “Until then, Starshine.”

**

Back in her room, Aryavain took the time to hang her dress up, humming to herself as she got ready for bed. A knock on the door pulled her from her reverie, and she called out for a moment as she pulled a sweater on over her tank top, wondering if she was also going to have to buy more ‘regal’ sleeping clothes as she looked down at her shorts. Chuckling to herself, she walked to the door and opened it, smiling as she saw the familiar face.

“Maxwell, hey!”

“I know it’s late, but there’s someone you should meet,” he said, still bouncing on the balls of his feet, still in his Masquerade suit. He gestured to the man beside him, an older, distinguished man, with a passing family resemblance. “Bertrand, this is the one I was telling you about: Aryavain Lightfoot!”

The man that stepped into the room was imposing, with a stern expression, and like every other man she met from Cordonia, towered over her. He walked around her, his arms clasped behind his back, his lip curled in a slight sneer.

“This is the girl you’ve chosen to represent our house?” he asked. Even his voice was imposing, cold and unfeeling as he looked her over. Aryavain felt like she should have kept the dress on, his expression making her feel like trash.

“Yep!” Maxwell exclaimed, his chest puffed out, as he walked towards one of the sitting chairs, lounging into it as if he had no bones. “Nailed it, right?”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Your Grace,” she murmured, feeling silly as she curtsied in a pair of shorts and an oversized college sweatshirt.

He made a noise in the back of his throat. “At least it appears she can be trained, Maxwell.”

She scowled, crossing her arms under her chest. Her lip curled as she sneered back at him, “I’m not your pet. ‘

“He doesn’t mean it like that,” Maxwell murmured, standing up from the chair and moving towards her.

Bertrand sniffed, lifting his chin to stare down his nose at her. “Maxwell, a word with you in private?”

He grabbed hold of Maxwell’s arm and hauled him out the door, slamming it behind him. Aryavain rolled her eyes, as she heard their voices through the door. Moving closer to it, she pressed her ear to the door to listen.

“ _That’s_ the girl you picked to represent our family?” That was most obviously Bertrand.

“Yeah. That’s Aryavain! Liam really hit it off with her when they met at the restaurant for his bachelor party. She was our waitress!”

“A _waitress_!” Bertrand’s hiss was sharp and infuriated, and she did not want to admit, even to herself, that it _actually_ hurt her feelings. She swallowed down the pain, as she listened in. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you! We could’ve had our pick of any unsponsored duchess or countess in half of Europe.”

She could hear the frown in Maxwell’s voice as he responded. “Well, sure. But like I said, she and Liam have a lot of, you know, _chemistry_. I think he really likes her.” She heard him sigh, before continuing. “I know you probably don’t care, but she could make him really happy. Like I’ve-never-seen-him-so-happy kind of happy. Shouldn’t Liam have a shot at love like that, even if he _is_ the Prince?”

“Spare me your sentimentality,” Bertrand sneered. “You’d better hope that this _waitress_ doesn’t ruin everything.”

She stumbled away from the door, just as it opened, trying to school her features to make it look less startled and hurt. She made eye contact with Maxwell, before looking away quickly, knowing he had seen the hurt that flashed across her face.

“You were listening to everything, weren’t you?” Bertrand snapped, slamming the door behind him again.

She lifted her chin, drawing herself up to her full—unimposing—height, managing to look down her nose at him, speaking coolly, “I would never.”

He eyed her suspiciously, before rolling his shoulders and nodding his head. “Very good then,” he murmured, gruffly. “We’ve got to trust one another if we’re going to be successful.”

She crossed her arms, her eyebrow lifting as she stared at him, silently. Maxwell squirmed behind Bertrand, uncomfortable with the energy in the room, but didn’t say anything.

“Perhaps Maxwell didn’t fully explain this to you, but if our house puts forth the Prince’s choice, we’ll win fame and recognition,” Bertrand said, clasping his hands behind his back again.

“Something we could really use right now actually,” Maxwell chimed in, a frown pulling his features. “Cause we’re actually kind of broke.”

“ _Maxwell_!” Bertrand snapped, his features tight. “You overstep.”

Maxwell squirmed, properly scolded. He mumbled, “Sorry.”

“You’re broke?” Aryavain asked, sympathy tugging at her heartstrings. “There’s no shame in being broke. I’ve been broke _plenty_ of times.”

She frowned as she remembered _why_ she was no longer broke, having inherited everything from her parents when they died, but she still remembered the feeling of living paycheck to paycheck, having to learn to figure out which bills could be past due, while others couldn’t. She could sympathize with the Beaumont’s in this situation: they weren’t so different from her.

“Thanks, Aryavain,” Maxwell murmured, sharing a small smile with her.

“It’s entirely different for _us_ ,” Bertrand sneered, his features tight.

She moved towards the bed, and sat down on it, pulling her slipper socks onto her feet, and settling in, smiling at Maxwell to sit with her. He bounced across the room and flopped onto the bed, letting out a long sigh.

“Do you get money if I marry the Prince?” she asked, patting Maxwell’s leg, before turning her attention back to Bertrand.

“Not…directly,” he responded, pacing the floor. “We can leverage the prestige to great effect. It would be best to get that leverage before others find out our situation.

“In the circles we run in, if word got out of our financial ruin, it would be a scandal.” The sternness of his expression faded as he frowned, despair etched deep into his face, a despair mixed with stress.

Maxwell sat up, scooting back to rest against the headboard, grabbing hold of her fox plushie and holding it in his lap. “Our name is still worth something in Cordonia! At the very least, we can introduce you to the right people, get you invitations to the right events,” he trailed off as he brushed his fingers over the soft fur of the stuffy.

“Speaking of which,” Bertrand chimed in, rolling his eyes at his brother. “Have you prepared for tomorrow’s event?”

“Liam mentioned something to me,” Aryavain murmured, turning towards Maxwell with a dreamy smile. “But we got a little sidetracked.”

“Sidetracked?” Maxwell asked, intrigued, waggling his eyebrows. “What kind of sidetracked.”

She covered her mouth as she let out an excited giggle. She whispered, “Maze-tag.”

Maxwell grinned, letting out a laugh, ending on a small snort. “Well, tomorrow’s event is the Derby.”

“You _do_ know what a derby is, right?” Bertrand asked, his tone put-upon.

She rolled her eyes, looking over her shoulder at the older Beaumont. “A fancy horse race. We have those in the States, too.”

“Very good,” he said, stiffly. “It’ll be your first opportunity to make an impression on the press. They’ll be covering the event.”

“They don’t get a lot of opportunities to see the royals, so they’ll jump at this chance,” Maxwell said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

She sighed, thinking of all the gossip magazines in all the newsstands around New York City. “Of course, there’s press.”

“Everyone in Cordonia will be influenced by what they write about you,” Bertrand said, his tone taking on a strict quality.

“We’re a monarchy, but we serve the people,” Maxwell added. “You’ll need their approval if you’re going to become queen.”

“Speaking of which, you should consider your attire for tomorrow,” Bertrand cut in smoothly. “The Queen will be present at the Derby, and the right outfit will go a long way to earning her favor.

“I recommend a more modern look,” he added, thoughtfully.

“Will there be a fancy hat?” she asked, biting her lip to stop the giggle from escaping her, but Maxwell caught it, covering his own up with a cough.

“I’m sure you could find one to match your outfit,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with a twinkle. “I’ve made an appointment for you in the morning at the boutique already.”

Bertrand checked his watch, clearing his throat. “We’ll speak more tomorrow right before we head out for the Derby. Good night.”

She murmured the same back, smiling when Maxwell touched her shoulder before following his brother out of her room, closing the door behind him, softly. She turned the lights off, before settling into the big, luxurious bed, pulling the comforters up around her, snuggling her fox plushie closely. She glanced out the window to her right, the reflection of the moon shining into her room. She smiled as she looked at the stars, hearing Liam’s voice in her head, falling into a restful sleep.

“ _Until then,_ Starshine _._ ”

**

Her phones alarm went off, startling her out of a dream where Maxwell was a tiny fairy, flitting around her, giving her advice about which giant hat was the most modern. Frowning and shaking her head, she tried to orient herself before she moved from the bed. Out of habit, she made her bed, placing her fox plushie front and center in the mountain of pillows, giving the bed a pat, before stepping into the bathroom for her shower. She laughed as she showered: for a palace with all the luxuries, the water pressure was horrible. It grounded her, reminding her of home.

Stepping out of her room, her hair dried, wearing a tank top and jeans, she was able to make her way to the grand staircase, before she froze, not knowing where the boutique was, and not knowing how to reach out to Maxwell to lead her. She paced the top of the staircase, tapping her chin as she tried to remember the route they took, when she was saved by a laugh at the bottom of the stairs. Looking down, she saw Drake lounging on the steps, a book in his hand.

She felt her shoulders sag in relief, and trotted down the stairs, plopping down beside him, feeling him stiffen beside her, as her thigh and shoulders touched him. She felt a giddy rush pass through her when she saw his hands shake a little before he slammed the book shut, turning to look at her.

“You look lost, Red,” he gruffed, only able to meet her gaze for a moment. His expression warmed when she let out a laugh.

“I have to admit, I am,” she murmured, leaning back on her elbows on the step above her. “Supposed to be in the boutique, but I need a damn map to get around this place.” 

He huffed out a laugh, standing up and holding his hand out to her. She eyed it with fake suspicion, before taking it, letting out a startled laugh when he yanked her to her feet. He led her through the halls, the silence between them comfortable. When she tried to stop to look at a painting, he continued pulling her along, making her realize that he still held her hand. She smiled, tugging back on his hand, pulling him to a stop. He followed her gaze to their entwined fingers and heard him suck in a breath before trying to pull his hand away.

“Drake,” she husked, stepping towards him. He froze, meeting her gaze, finally. Her breasts brushed against him as she stepped closer, tilting her head back to continue meeting his gaze. She saw his eyes darken, saw the way his jaw tightened, his nostrils flare as he tried to hold himself as still as possible. She reached up with her free hand to cup his chin, watching as his eyes closed; she smiled leaning up on the tips of her toes to kiss his other cheek, her lips lingering a moment. He made a noise deep in his throat, she could feel the rumble in his chest that followed the sound, causing her to suck her breath in sharply at her body’s response.

“ _Red_ ,” he growled in warning, his eyes opening to glower down at her, his brown eyes dark with his dilated pupils.

“I-I, Drake—” she stammered, eyes wide, heart pounding.

He reached up, touching her chin, to tilt her head up, his lips just above hers. His gaze darted from her eyes to her lips, before settling on the latter; she licked her lips, letting out little gasps of breath. He whispered her name, his voice still rough, his lips _just_ touching hers in the smallest of whispers—then a door down the hall slammed, and she startled, feeling her heart jump, causing him to jump away from her, turning a deep shade of red.

“C’mon,” he grumbled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and stalking down the hall towards the boutique.

“Drake?” she asked, her voice high, tensing when he let loose a low growl in response. She went silent, following behind him. When he stopped in front of the door, she said his name again, watching his shoulders hunch. She reached out to touch his arm, but he flinched away from her.

Rounding on her, scowling, he got into her personal space, forcing her to back up against the wall. “What do you want from me, Red?” he snarled, pinning her to the wall by her arms. When she let out a gasp, he let go of her, stepping back, running his hands through his hair.

“I was—” She swallowed thickly. “I was hoping we were friends, Drake.”

He let out a humorless laugh, his shoulders slumping, rubbing his hand across his face. When he pulled his hand away, he had schooled his features into his usual gruff mask. “Friends,” he echoed. “Sure.”

He turned and walked away, leaving her watching after him, a little hurt, before she entered the boutique, closing the door gently behind her, feeling a little miserable. She chewed her bottom lip, lost in thought, confused by the feelings she had for Liam and his best friend, wondering if it made her a slut for her to feel the same way for them both. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t realize that she was not alone in the boutique.

“Oh, I’m surprised to see _you_ here. I thought you’d have gone home by now.” Olivia’s voice broke through her thoughts, startling her. Looking at the taller redhead, she took in her outfit, a bright yellow flower-like hat, perched on the side of her head, wearing a Grecian-style mint green dress, with ruffles, that looked quite wonderful on her long willowy frame. She continued with a cold smile, “Surely you’ve realized that you don’t have a chance at winning.”

“Olivia,” Aryavain murmured, her own hurt feelings making her feel like lashing out, realizing that that was probably why the noble lady was so nasty. “You don’t need to hurt others to protect yourself.”

She stared back in shock, stammering, unsure what to say.

“It’s okay, Olivia,” Aryavain murmured, stepping into the dressing room, looking at the dresses on the rack. “Look, I know we’re set up to be rivals, but that doesn’t mean we have to dislike each other.”

“But Liam—”

Aryavain rolled her eyes. “We don’t have to hurt each other. Especially over a guy. It’s so… _high school_.”

“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, Aryavain,” Olivia snapped, her voice wavering. “But you—you’re not going to fool me.”

She turned on her heel, striding through the door, clearly intent on having the last word. Aryavain smiled sadly, her eyebrows drawn together, as she watched her leave. Letting out a soft sigh, she turned back to the dresses.

“Look,” Olivia sighed, turning back towards her. “I know you’re probably going to embarrass us all with your lack of fashion sense later but try to avoid doing that. You’ve probably never been to a derby, but you really must look the part.”

She pointed at a dress across from Aryavain. “A runway-worthy ensemble is going to get you noticed by the press, but that’s just my recommendation.”

Aryavain turned to look at her, leaning against the rack, frowning. “Is this like the last time you gave me advice?” she asked, tiredly.

“No, I—” Olivia sighed, looking forlorn. “Never mind. Forget it. I’ll see you at the races later. And I won’t be holding back.”

She strides out of the room, letting the door click closed behind her. Aryavain turned back to look at the dresses, wondering which would be best to wear. Olivia could be right, getting in with the press would be good, but getting along with the Queen herself would be better. After a moment perusing, she finally settled on a modern dress: the top was a bodice-cut tank top in white, while the skirt was a pink pencil skirt, with red roses scattered across it. She felt her lips twitch as she paired it with a black mesh hat, rimmed in white satin, and topped with red and black ribbons. Putting the outfit on, she looked for shoes she should wear, deciding on a pair of black heels, that strapped across her ankles.

Looking at her outfit in the 3-fold stand-up mirror, she could barely recognize herself. Gone was the leather-wearing waitress, leaving only the noble-sponsored Lady Aryavain in her place. For the first time, she wondered if trying to win Liam’s hand was going to irreversibly change her. Taking a deep breath in, rolling her shoulders back, she had a feeling that Drake would make sure she stayed true to who she was, and even Liam, to the extent that he could as Crown Prince, would make sure she didn’t change too much. She’d make sure of it.


	5. Off to the Races

“So, let’s review,” Maxwell said, using a stern voice, hitting his hand with riding crop. Aryavain squinted at him, wondering _why_ of all reasons he brought a riding crop to her room. “At the lawn picnic, you’ll have to eat with perfect civility.”

“I’ve got this, Maxwell,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. “I won’t stuff my mouth, pick my teeth, or stab Drake with a fork.” She grinned at him over her mug. “No matter how tempting that last one might be.”

He laughed, dropping the stern-teacher act, flopping into a chair across from her, and popping a grape into his mouth. “Right, well,” he said, around a mouthful of grape, causing her to purse her lips to avoid laughing. “Bertrand said I should go over _everything_. Speaking of which, how would you address him?”

She rolled her eyes. “Your Grace.”

He clapped his hands, before grabbing a handful of grapes and throwing them in the air, deftly catching each one in his mouth. “In the case that it comes up, his full title is Duke Bertrand Beaumont of Ramsford, also known as Duke Ramsford.”

A knock on the door startled him out of his chair, but he jumped back up, pulling his jacket back into place, before striding to the door and opening it. Bertrand stepped in looking around the room before lighting on Aryavain sitting primly in her seat, sipping her cup of coffee, eyeing him over the lip of her mug.

“How’s the progress, Maxwell?” he asked, turning to his brother.

“As planned!” he exclaimed, popping another grape into his mouth. “Aryavain and I were just about to review her entrance to the Derby and how to get out of a car without flashing the press—”

“’Adjust skirts before moving and keep your knees and feet together while swiveling out’,” she recited, putting her mug down on the table, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

Bertrand scowled at her, his jaw tightening. “Anyone who can run an internet search can spout off that kind of protocol. We’re asking you to be a _lady_ ,” he snapped. “Maxwell, I hope you don’t mind if I take the liberty of testing Aryavain myself.”

“Pretty sure it doesn’t matter whether or not I mind,” he muttered under his breath, leaning against the wall, eating his handful of grapes.

Bertrand gestured for Aryavain to come to him, and when she stood in front of him, he looked her over. “Aryavain, let’s pretend I’m meeting you for the first time.”

He put a hand in his pocket, straightening his spine. “Hello. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Aryavain Lightfoot.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Duke Ramsford,” she murmured with a curtsy. Bertrand took her hand with his right, kissing the back of it.

“Now,” he murmured, letting her hand go. “What did I do wrong?”

She pursed her lips, as she held eye contact with him. “You used the wrong hand. You should have taken my hand with your _left_ hand. Otherwise, it’s an insult.”

Maxwell gave her a thumbs up over Bertrand’s shoulder, and she bit back a grin, turning her attention back to Bertrand who was _smiling_. She blinked at him, wondering if she was seeing things.

“Very observant of you,” he murmured, pleased.

“And you thought I wasn’t learning anything,” she said with a smile.

He sighed, shaking his head. “Don’t get too complacent. You’re only ever one mistake away from a scandal.”

She rolled her eyes, letting out a huff of breath. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“Anyway,” Bertrand said, moving towards the window, and looking out over the grounds. “The real reason I came was to inform you that our limo awaits to take us to Honeyhill Downs.”

“Limo?” Aryavain asked, a little surprised. Maxwell grinned, holding his arm out to her, leading her out of the palace. He held himself stiffly, talking to her with the airy way of a noble, telling wildly inappropriate tales behind the statues that lined the walls of the palace, making her laugh, Bertrand walking behind them, put upon.

“Now, as we mentioned earlier, how you come across to the Cordonian people is very important, and the press can make or break you,” Bertrand said, as they drove towards the Derby. “What the press writes, the people read. If the people love you, then it’ll be easy to convince them you deserve their prince.”

“So, you’ve got to impress the press, so to speak,” Maxwell chimed in. “You’ll be surrounded by them as soon as we pull up to the Downs.”

She looked out the window of the limo, feeling a little nervous. “All right. What kinds of questions should I be expecting?”

“It’ll depend on who’s doing the interview,” Bertrand responded, checking his pocket watch. “They’ll start with easy questions, asking who you are, where you’re from, that sort of thing.”

Maxwell touched her knee gently, pulling her attention to him. “People want to understand your story, so think about how you want them to see you.”

“Then the hard questions. Well,” Bertrand frowned. “I don’t know what they’ll ask, but—”

“Be myself?” Aryavain asked, giving him an innocent smile.

“Heavens, no!” he snapped. “Be a future queen who loves Cordonia and acts with grace and poise. And for the love of king and country, if they ask you about Cordonian apples, make sure you take the question seriously.”

“Cordonian…apples?” she asked slowly, making sure she heard correctly.

Maxwell grinned, letting out a laugh as he leaned back in the seat. “It’s the national fruit, and one of our most important exports.”

She nodded her head, blinking rapidly as she absorbed the information. “I got it.”

“ _Do you_?” Bertrand asked, sternly. “How confident are you feeling about this?”

“I feel great! It’ll be fun!”

He scowled at her. His lip curling in a sneer. “I hope your overconfidence won’t be your downfall.”

Maxwell scoffed, pulling her attention to him before she could respond. “Well, I believe in you!” he said with a grin. She smiled back at him, confident in herself because of his confidence in her.

The limo took a turn, and slowed down, pulling into the racetrack. Ladies and gentlemen wearing bright colors and big hats—which brought a grin to her face—paraded through a throng of press reporters jockeying for interviews behind a line of velvet stanchions. She felt her heart speed up, her nerves jumping through her body as if she were being electrocuted sporadically. She was about to say something along the lines of this being like a fair, but she felt that Bertrand wouldn’t take kindly to the statement, using his stern voice to tell her something along the lines of ‘this is no country fair where you weigh pigs and eat pie. This is _the_ outdoor event of the social season’, and she really didn’t want to deal with that. Maxwell gave her a lopsided smile, seeing that specific thought cross her mind before he opened the door for her.

“This is your stop, my lady,” he murmured warmly, patting her leg again when she looked at him, panic flashing across her features.

“You’re coming with me, right?” she asked, her voice wavering.

“No,” Bertrand said, firmly. “We don’t need to be interviewed.”

She took a breath in, calming herself down. She nodded her head. “Where should I go after I talk to the press?”

“The suitors have their own section. Just continue down the red carpet and search for the pink tents, and you’ll be fine,” Maxwell said, reassuringly.

Sliding out of the car, Aryavain took another calming breath, stepping forward just to be engulfed by a hoard of press. She felt her face tighten as she felt her chest constrict, before taking an even deeper breath, flashing her best smile. Glancing back at the limo, Maxwell gives thumbs-up, a giant grin on his face, before the limo pulls away. Turning back to face the press, her attention was caught first by a man in backwards white baseball cap, and a purple hoodie.

“Over here! Donald Brine from the _Cordonia Broadcasting Center_!” he called to her, his voice strong and steady, easily cutting through the other reporters. She nodded at him. “We’ve heard about the new lady on the social scene! What’s your name?”

“Lady Aryavain Lightfoot from House Beaumont,” she answered, feeling her shoulders relax.

“Our viewers want the real story. Tell us about yourself!” he asked, shoving the microphone back at her.

She smiled coyly, looking up at him beneath her lashes. “I’m a mystery,” she murmured, her voice husky.

“Most of the ladies here can’t wait to talk our ears off,” he said, eyeing her curiously.

“What can I say?” Aryavain said, cringing internally at her next statement. “I’m not like everyone else.”

“ _Fascinating_ ,” he murmured, giving her a soft smile. “Now, I’ve heard early rumors that you’re Prince Liam’s favorite. What do you think makes you stand out?”

She let out a sheepish laugh, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. “I was his waitress,” she whispered, pulling away and putting a finger to her lips, with a wink.

He grinned at her. “A real Cinderella story. Can I get a photo of you?”

“Of course!” she said, placing a hand on her waist, cocking her hip, smiling straight into the camera. He murmurs happily after taking the photo, tapping notes into his phone. She caught something about ‘The Mystery Woman’, but her attention was grabbed by a beautiful blonde woman, in a designer suit.

“Lady Lightfoot, Ana de Luca here on behalf of _Trend_ , fashion and celebrity news magazine,” she said, her voice crisp and quick. “To get right into it, Lady Lightfoot, as an outsider, what do you think of Cordonia?”

She sighed, dreamily, her smile widening as she thought of her first sighting of this beautiful country, from her seat on the plane. “Cordonia, is beautiful. Full of charm and wonder.”

“The people will be happy to hear it,” Ana said, adjusting the recorder in her hand. “Lady Lightfoot, if you marry Prince Liam, you’ll be our next queen. What qualities make you fit to rule Cordonia?”

“I pride myself on my grace and composure,” she responded, neatly. “The people can trust me to look out for them and to keep a cool head in times of crisis. I’d also consider myself brave, caring, and honest.” She smiled coyly, adding, “Being a waitress has set me up to deal with all manner of experiences.”

Ana laughed, pleased with her response. “That’ll be a nice soundbite. Last question. Hypothetically, how would you handle news about low crop yields from the Cordonian apple orchards?”

“My first act would be to comfort the people,” she responded, easily. “I know how important the Cordonian apples are to the country and its people, and they deserve to know I’d take this problem seriously. Then, of course, we’d talk about ways to deal with the crisis at hand.”

Ana nodded her head, pleased with the recording she got. “I can use that. Thank you, Lady Aryavain.”

Smiling once more for a photo, Aryavain moved down the carpet, allowing the newcomers to have their turn with the press, waving goodbye. Proceeding down the carpet, she was stopped several more times for photos, and by the time she was away from them, she was blinking rapidly from the flashes. Blinded momentarily by the bulbs, she lost her way trying to find the pink tents, ending up in one of the stables, for a quiet, dark place to clear her vision, and potentially get help to find the suitor’s tent. Most of the pens inside the stable were empty, save for one horse. As she drew closer to it, the horse retreated deeper into its pen, its ears flattened to its skull, the whites of its eyes showing how spooked it was.

Leaning against one of the pens, Aryavain took a moment to close her eyes, to attempt to clear her vision, when a gust of wind slammed the door shut, causing her to let out a small scream, adding to the sound, startling the horse even more. The frightened horse charged the pen door, slamming it open, kicking and neighing in distress, barreling right towards her. She froze in place, still having trouble seeing, when the horse reared up in front of her, pulling her heart into her throat. Just as the horse was about to stomp her into the afterlife, someone darted between horse and human shoving her into a stack of hay.

“Whoa, there, gorgeous,” a familiar voice cooed at the horse. Aryavain looked up, seeing Drake reach up to wrap his hand in the horse’s mane, gently pulling its head down to lock eyes with it. His voice was gentle, coaxing, as the horse calmed down, letting out the occasional snort. “Nothing to worry about, big fella. I’ll get the scary girl out of here for you.”

Leading the horse back to the stall, it gave Aryavain time to get back to her feet, brushing the hay off her, her entire body trembling. Drake came out of the stall, walking towards her, his gaze concerned.

“You okay, Red?” he asked, his voice still soft from talking down the horse. She looked up at him, her eyes watering as her body started crashing from the adrenaline. She looked down at her hands, visibly shaking, and then Drake was wrapping her in his arms, holding her tightly.

“You saved me,” she breathed, clutching at the back of his shirt.

He let out a huff of laughter, pulling her back to rub the palms of his hands up and down her arms. He leaned down to look into her eyes, giving her a gentle smile. “I thought I was saving the horse,” he joked. “These Derby runners are like athletes. Can’t risk an injury tripping over a stray human.”

Her lips quivered in a wobbly smile. “Charming,” she said without any heat to her words. “Did the horse knock the sense out of you?”

He laughed, pulling her back into him, his right hand on her lower back, his left in her hair, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Nah. In fact, I got away without a scratch.”

She nuzzled her nose into his chest, wrapping her arms around him, closing her eyes to take in the comfort. “What are you even doing here?”

Drake made a sound that rumbled through his chest, as he ran his fingers through her hair, brushing against the back of her neck, causing her to shiver. He held her like that, until the horse behind them nickered, and then he pulled back from her, putting an appropriate amount of distance between them.

“The truth is, Liam told me to keep an eye on you, and make sure you don’t end up in the wrong place.” His lips twitched as he held back a smile. “Exactly like now.”

“He told you that?” she asked, flabbergasted.

He nodded his head, giving her a patronizing grin. “Good thing I followed his instructions, eh? Speaking of which, you should get back to the racetrack and your adoring fans.”

She sighed, her face falling, realizing she was completely out of place. “I’d love to, but I’m lost,” she admitted, sadly. “Maxwell told me to look for the pink tents?”

Drake sighed, ending it on a groan, running his hand through his hair. “He was wrong. You’re looking for the _white_ tents next to the starting line. Can’t miss them.”

He started to walk out of the stables, and she rushed after him, grabbing his arm, pulling him back. “You’re not coming with me?”

“No,” he laughed, reaching to brush her hair back over her shoulder, his gaze focusing on the skin of her throat that he uncovered, swallowing thickly. His eyes darkened, but then he shook his head, moving away to open the stable doors, letting her out first. She pressed her hand against his side as she passed by him, her mind going blank as she felt how hard his body felt beneath her hand. “I’m due to meet Liam. He has his own private tent. We usually just hang out there and get some drinks, watch the ceremonies, place our bets on the horses. It’s pretty sweet.”

“In that case,” she said, her gaze heated as she moved her hand from his side to his stomach, looking up beneath her lashes as she stepped closer to him. She felt his breath hitch, catching her wrist in his large hand, stopping the movement. She smiled, innocently up at him. “I’m going with you.”

The way he paused was as if his brain was rebooting, and she stifled a laugh. He shook his head, as if trying to get it jumpstarted. “What?”

“It sounds more fun where you’re going,” she murmured, with a shrug. “Take me with you.”

He stuttered, as she used his hold on her wrist, to pull him along with her, “I don’t think you’re supposed to.”

She looked back at him over her shoulder, giving him a sly grin. “What are they going to do? Put me in Princess Jail?”

He huffed out a laugh, before pulling her back towards him, bringing her flush against him, tracking the blush that crossed her features, a smirk pulling his lips. That same _something_ in his gaze had heat building in her body, choking any words she could have made. He held his arm out, pushing her forward, with a soft swat on her bottom, earning a desperate noise from her. He rumbled out a pleased sound as he led her towards the start line, and into a private, enclosed, red tent. Just as she was about to step inside the tent, he wrapped his arm around her, from over her shoulder, pulling her back into his chest, pressing his nose into her hair by her ear.

“ _Behave_ , Red,” he rasped in her ear, another pleased sound rumbling through his chest, at the little gasps she made. Pulling away from her, he adjusted his shirt, before walking away, calling over his shoulder, “I’m going to grab some beers for us.”

She took a moment to catch her breath, putting a hand to her chest, and realizing he had put a pass around her neck. She let out a huff of breath as she smiled, watching him walk away, taking in his bow-legged stance, before slipping into the tent. Once the tent flapped closed behind her, she saw Liam standing on the other end, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the racers get ready. She smiled warmly, taking in his regal stance, before moving towards him, quietly.

“You look thoughtful,” she murmured, startling him out of his thoughts, as he turned sharply to look at her. “What’s on your mind?”

“Aryavain! I was just—”

“Just what?” she asked, coyly, stepping into his space, her own hands held behind her back, pushing her chest out to brush against him. He sucked in a breath, looking down at her.

“If I’m honest, I was just thinking about you,” he said, finally, smiling as he reached towards her to brush his palm down her arm. “I was wondering where you were in the stands.”

She chuckled, leaning closer to him, tilting her head back. “Lucky for you, I found you first.”

“How _did_ you manage it?” he asked, laughing.

“Drake was kind enough to let me in,” she murmured, sighing when he brushed his hand up her arm to brush her hair back over her shoulder.

“He’s never been one to follow the rules,” he murmured back, cupping the side of her neck. “But he’s also not one to just answer to anyone. You’re really something, aren’t you?”

She smiled up at him, warmly. “It might have something to do with the fact that someone asked him to look out for me.”

He smiled, sheepishly at her. “Ah, right. I guess you caught me. I did say that to him.”

“Liam,” she murmured, her voice dropping to a husk. “That was really thoughtful of you.”

“I’ve found myself thinking of you often, Starshine,” he said, his voice slightly rougher. He brushed his thumb across her jawline, earning a soft sound from her. He leaned down towards her slowly, catching her gaze, before dropping his to her lips. She whispered his name, just as his lips brushed against hers. Her breath hitched as his other hand came up to wrap in her red hair, pulling her head back further so he could deepen the kiss. The sounds of the crowd cheering pulled them apart, slowly. He pressed his forehead against hers, letting out a sigh.

“Sounds like the horses are being led to the starting line,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across her bottom lip. He took her hand, leading her to a seat in front of the tent window. She watched as majestic-looking thoroughbreds pranced forward, tossing their heads and nickering.

Liam smiled, watching them get ready in the startup. “I love watching the horses.”

“They’re beautiful,” she said, in awe.

“That they are,” Liam agreed. “These are no show ponies, but they have a beauty and grace all their own. Did you know the winner gets covered in flowers?”

She bit back a laugh, nodding her head. “These are televised events.”

Before Liam could respond, Drake pushed his way into the tent, holding three cups of beer. Handing one to each of them, he took a long sip of his, looking out at the start-line, making a point to not look at her.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he gruffed, his eyes alighting on her, before shooting away again.

“Drake,” she murmured in greeting. “OF course not. It’s always good to see you.”

He finally looked at her, his ears flushing red. “You are?”

She laughed, patting the seat next to her. “Come join us.”

“Your just in time,” Liam added, nodding towards the racetrack. “The last race is about to start! I say Twilight-Dash takes the crown.”

Drake shook his head, swallowing a sip of beer, settling down into the seat next Aryavain, his legs spread out in front of him. “That’s not a bad prediction, but I’ve been studying the stats. My money is on Marabelle’s Dream.”

Liam turned to him, grinning. “Is that a bet, Drake?”

“Yes,” he responded immediately, putting his arm on the back of Aryavain’s seat, leaning back comfortably. “The usual?”

“What’s the usual?” she asked, looking between the two of them.

Liam laughed, taking a sip of his beer. “Ever since we were kids, we’d bet each other push-ups.”

Drake laughed, shaking his head, leaning into her. “Not just _any_ push-ups.”

“Push-ups while the other person sits on your back,” Liam added, his grin widening.

Aryavain laughed, earning warm smiles from both men. “It’s so cute. I love it.”

Drake scoffed, offended. “It’s not ‘cute’. It’s—it’s rugged. And manly.”

“Yes, very tough,” Liam agreed, seriously.

“Oh, yes,” she said, nodding sagely. “Of course.”

Taking a sip of her own beer, her eyes locked with Drake’s feeling her blush come back as the hand on the back of her seat started brushing gently against her bare shoulder. Liam finished his beer off, turning to place his cup down on the table, clapping his hands together.

“So, the bet?” he asked.

“You’re on.”

“Except perhaps one change to the usual,” Liam said. He nodded towards her, smiling gently at her. “I think we’d be incredibly rude to leave out Aryavain. Maybe she should be the one to sit on the loser’s back.”

“Sit on your back while one of you does push-ups?” she asked, taking a moment to think about it. “I don’t know, seems a show I wouldn’t want to miss.”

Drake huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I bet Liam’ll put on a real impressive show for you. When he _loses_.”

Just then, the race started, pulling their attention to the horses barreling out of the gates. Drake’s hand continues to brush against her skin, distracting her from the race. What she could gather was that Twilight-Dash had a strong lead from the get-go, Drake’s hand brushing higher to the back of her neck, wrapping his fingers around her neck there, pressing gently against her pulse-points. She looked over at him, seeing him as relaxed as she had ever seen. He caught her gaze, smirking, before pulling his hand back to rest against the back of her chair again. She hadn’t realized she was breathing shallowly, until she took a deep breath in, her mind clearing.

“They’re rounding the third bend,” Liam said, causing Drake to lean forward in his seat.

“Come _on_ ,” Drake muttered, his leg starting to bounce with the excitement. “Catch ‘em in the final stretch!”

Looking out at the race, Aryavain felt her heart start beating faster. “They’re neck-and-neck!”

In the last several paces, Marabelle’s Dream pulled ahead, crossing the finish line a nose length in front of Twilight-Dash. Drake cheered, jumping out of his seat, clapping Liam on the back, before downing the rest of his beer. Aryavain laughed, having never seen him so animated, watching as the beautiful black horse was led to the side and wreathed in roses, the jockey petting her gently, giving her all the love.

“Liam,” Drake sound, bowing low, mockingly. “I believe you’re up.”

The Prince sighed, good naturedly. “Well, here we go.”

“If you think I’m going to let you out of the bet because we have a voyeur, think again,” Drake said, settling back onto his seat, and waiting.

“Oh, I know,” Liam said, with a grin. “That’s one of my favorite things about you, Drake. You never let me get away with anything. Now, I can’t get these clothes all sweaty.”

Aryavain felt her mouth go dry when he pulled his blazer off and started unbuttoning his shirt. Drake took her beer out of her hands, and started drinking it, watching her from the corner of his eye. When Liam dropped his shirt onto his blazer on the chair, Aryavain sucked in a breath as she saw just how in _shape_ he was. She swallowed thickly, crossing her legs to squeeze them together. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Drake curled his fingers into her hair, tugging back a little, pulling a soft noise from her. When Liam got into position, Drake got up and settled onto his back, with a laugh.

Aryavain leaned forward, covering her mouth as she watched the two of them, barely even listening to Liam count out the amount of push-ups that he had done. Drake made eye contact with her and laughed.

“You’re barely breaking a sweat. Maybe Aryavain should get on here, too,” he said with a laugh. Liam groaned out the number ten, rolling his body so Drake fell off him, who laughed good-naturedly.

“Done,” Liam huffed, taking a moment to lie on his back. Drake held a hand out to help him, clapping him on the back, before Liam started pulling his shirt and blazer back on. “Never let it be said that I’ve ever backed out of a bet.”

“And you lose all the time, so that’s really saying something,” Drake said, clapping Liam on the shoulder.

Clapping him back on the shoulder, Liam grinned. “I must’ve done something very wrong at some point for you to be my best friend.”

“I think it’s part of my job to keep you humble,” Drake said, finishing off her beer. “Hard to do with all these gorgeous women chasing after you.”

He glanced at Aryavain, his meaning clear, causing her to blush and look away. He made a noise that sounded almost pleased, as he placed the now empty cup on the table. She cleared her throat, standing up, bringing both of their attentions to her. She froze under their gazes, mouth dry, thinking she would survive the heat on the surface of the sun better than she was going to survive having them both look at her with _that_ in their eyes.

“Speaking of which,” Liam murmured, stepping towards her, and taking her hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss her knuckles, his gaze holding hers in place. “Now that the races are over, it’s probably time to get back to the social barrage. Next up is the lawn picnic.”

“I-uh-I guess I should get back to where the girls are,” she stuttered, flushing pink when she heard Drake snort. “Bertrand and Maxwell are probably looking for me.”

“I’ll go see where they are,” Drake said, gruffly, leaving the tent.

When they were alone, Liam pulled her flush against him, pulling her into a soft sway, holding her hand against his chest. She sighed into his hold, resting her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, content. His other hand came up to brush through her hair, coaxing a soft purring sound from her, which in turn pulled a pleased hum from him.

“Thank you for coming here, Starshine,” he said, his voice gentle, soothing. “I’m not exaggerating when I say that you made my day.”

She hummed, pulling back just far enough to look up at him, a dreamy smile pulling her lips. “How about a goodbye kiss?”

He smiled, warmly, moving his hand from her hair, to touch her chin, tilting her head back, leaning down to press his lips against hers. Quicker, and firmer than their previous kisses, causing her to arch up onto the tips of her toes, reaching up to grab his blazer in her fist, pulling herself closer to him. Breathing heavily, she pulled away, her face flushed.

“Now it’s been a perfect day,” she panted. A cough from the tent entrance had them springing apart, laughing when they saw Drake standing there, his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched.

“I just saw Maxwell run out to bring the car around,” he said, his voice rough. “The ladies are a few tents down, and they’re headed to the lawn picnic. I can show Red there.”

She nodded, looking back at Liam with a soft smile. Liam took her hand again, kissing it gently. “Goodbye, Aryavain. Until we meet again.”

“ _Until then_.” She echoed his statement from the night before, sharing a soft smile with him, before walking towards Drake, passing under his arm as he held the tent flap open for her.

“I told you to _behave_ , Red,” he rasped in her ear, causing her to come to a complete stop, the top of her head connecting with his jaw, his teeth clicking together with the impact. The tent flipped closed as he let go of it, reaching up to rub his jaw.

“ _Me_?” she hissed, rounding on him, jabbing her finger into his chest. He smirked down at her, and she realized how ridiculous she must look, looking like a kitten getting mad at a golden retriever. She took a deep breath in, crossing her arms under her chest, and watched as his gaze dropped down, his eyes darkening. She huffed out a breath, turning on her heel and walking away before she heard him laugh behind her.

“Wrong way, Red,” he called to her. She stopped abruptly, her shoulders stiffening, before she sighed, looking up at the sky. When she turned around, he was within arm’s reach, his hands tucked back into his pockets. “C’mon, Red. We can have our fight when it’s not so public.”

She scrunched her nose at him, before huffing out a breath. “I’m going to hold you to that,” she murmured, earning herself a chuckle.

“Deal.” He led her to where the other ladies were leaving the tent, catching the tail-end of Olivia’s whine.

“I can’t believe we didn’t get to see the Prince at all!”

Penelope made a soothing noise. “He’s sure to be at the lawn party, though.”

Drake reached out and snagged her wrist, pulling her to a stop. Wincing as he watched Olivia stalk away in the opposite direction. She frowned at him, snapping her fingers in front of his face. He focused on her, a scowl pulling his features.

“What was that?” she asked, pointing her thumb over her shoulder, after Olivia.

He growled at her, pulling a grin from her. “I just don’t want to hear what she has to say,” he grumbled. He pulled her arm up to look down at her small hand, his expression soft. “It was a good morning with you and Liam. I don’t want her ruining it.”

Aryavain smiled, pulling her arm gently from his grip, moving to touch his cheek. “Me too.”

His smile was warm in response to her comment, and he nodded his head, clearing his throat gruffly. “Good luck, Red.”

She turned towards the ladies, pushing her shoulders back, and taking in a deep breath. “Sometimes I feel like I’d rather face a rampaging horse than deal with them.”

He let out a bark of laughter. “I don’t know. You didn’t fare so well in front of the horse.”

“I mean, _technically_ , that’s true.” She let out a mocking laugh, shoving his shoulder. She looked up at him, he gazed down at her, their smiles warm, before the look became more intense. “Hey, Drake?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for saving me.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I know I can be a jerk, but I’d have to be a real low-life to let a horse trample a girl.”

“Well, thanks anyway,” she murmured, placing a hand on his chest, and leaning against him, to kiss his cheek. Noticing the way he flushed, she giggled, before flouncing away, to catch up with the ladies.

“Look who finally showed up,” Olivia sneered, noticing her walk up to them. “ _Fashionable late_ has its limits, you know.”

“I was worried about you, Aryavain,” Hana said, sliding up next to her, linking their arms together. “What happened?”

Aryavain smiled, sweetly. “I got lost.”

Kiara sighed sadly. “it’s only day two and you can’t even keep up? _Tres embarrassant_.”

“I know it can be really overwhelming, how the press swarmed us all when we arrived?” Hana murmured with a shy smile.

Falling into step with the other ladies, Aryavain kept their arms linked. “Hana, how do you handle all the attention?”

She thought about it for a moment, pursing her lips. “All the pressure to be perfect and keep up appearances can be pretty overwhelming. I guess when I’m up there, I try to think of the person that I want everyone to see, and act like that person.”

“Is that all?” Aryavain asked, her eyebrows furrowing.

Hana smiled, giving her a conspiratorial smile. “Sweets and massages help, too.” That pulled a startled laugh from Aryavain, causing her own smile to sweeten. “I’ll have to introduce you to all the pastries from my home.”

“I wouldn’t say no to that,” Aryavain responded. “Now that the races are over, what happens next?”

“Now?” Hana asked, pulling her quicker along towards their vehicles. “Now the real party starts!”


	6. Queen of Hearts

Aryavain looked over at Hana, taking in her pink sundress, feeling a little jealous of her olive skin tone that glowed in the sunlight, but enjoyed pulling the other woman out of her shell of demure shyness. There was something delightful about her, and unusually positive, something that Aryavain elated in hearing.

“What makes this the best party ever?” she asked, thankful when Hana shortened her strides to match her shorter legs, probably having picked up on her breathing slightly heavier.

“Well, if your idea of the best party ever is a tea party with lemonade, finger sandwiches, and butter cookies,” Hana said, shrugging it off.

Aryavain squeezed her arm in hers, pulling the brunette’s attention to her. She leaned into the other woman, whispering, “I love a good tea party.” She watched the surprised delight cross Hana’s features, before shuttering off. Aryavain continued, “I know some people think they’re childish, but I can’t help myself.”

Hana smiled genuinely this time, relief causing her shoulders to loosen. “What’s not to love? There’s nothing cozier than eating scones off a pretty set of china on a sunny afternoon.” She eyed Aryavain, before adding, “When I was little, I didn’t have that many toys to play with because my parents thought they were frivolous.

“But I was allowed a tea set, so that I could learn to be a proper hostess.” Aryavain smiled, letting out a little laugh, picturing a tiny Hana speaking properly, and pouring tea, like a proper lady.

“Naturally,” she murmured, squeezing her arm again.

“I spent lots of happy afternoons sipping tea with all my favorite guests. Mister Sock, Miss Lemon Curd, and Princess Snickerdoodle…” she trailed off, seeing the confusion on Aryavain’s face. Hana frowned, a slice of childhood misery crossing her features. “Like I said, I wasn’t allowed to have toys, so I had to get a little creative.”

Aryavain smiled warmly up at her. “I just hope the company today can keep up.”

Hana smiled back, taking her teasing tone in the intended way. “Oh, I _much_ prefer your company. You actually talk to me!”

“Princess Snickerdoodle was never one for conversation?” she asked, hiding a smile.

“Not so much,” Hana laughed. Letting it die out naturally, she wiped a tear from her eye, before changing the subject. “Don’t forget! We’ll be meeting the Queen today! That’s sure to be…eventful.”

Aryavain made a noncommittal noise. “Have you met her before?”

“Once, a long time ago, but I doubt she remembers me,” she mused. “Today will be our first official meeting. I must confess, I’m a bit nervous.”

With that confession, they arrived at the line of cars waiting to pick up their owners. A black town car pulled up in front of the two of them, and the driver got out to open the door, waiting patiently.

“This is me, Aryavain,” she said, unlinking their arms, before leaning over to kiss both of her cheeks. “I’ll see you at the lawn party!”

Waving as she drove away, Aryavain took a moment to enjoy a light breeze, enjoying the feel of her hair dancing around her. It was a fleeting moment, as a familiar limo pulled up in front of her, Maxwell jumping out and, escorting her inside with a flourish. Settling back into the seat, she closed her eyes wanting nothing more than to take a nap, but she felt Bertrand’s intense need to _plan_.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, waiting. He cleared his throat as Maxwell settled back in beside her. “First of all, was that Lady Hana Lee I saw you with before we pulled up? You two looked friendly.”

“I believe Hana and I are becoming friends,” she answered, accepting a bottle of water from Maxwell, chugging half of it back.

“Interesting,” Bertrand murmured, pondering the idea. “An alliance with her family isn’t the _worst_ thing as long as you don’t let it distract you from the Prince.

“In any case, your focus today should be on impressing the Queen. She holds more sway than anyone else at court,” he added, watching her drink from the bottle, distastefully.

“Even more than the King?” she asked, gasping for breath when she came up for air.

“Socially, yes,” Bertrand said. “Don’t underestimate her. Thankfully, you heeded my recommendation to wear something modern. That’ll curry her favor.”

“Yeah, that’ll help,” Maxwell, murmured tapping her leg quickly. “But more than that, you need to get her to like you.”

She looked at him, pushing her bottom lip out as she took a moment to think. “If I’m going to get her to like me, tell me what hates.”

“She’s quite… _wary_ of ladies who were not born in Cordonia, so you should watch your step there,” Maxwell said, thoughtfully.

“The Queen hates it when royal protocol isn’t followed. You should call her ‘Your Majesty’ when you first meet her, and ‘ma’am’ thereafter,” Bertrand said, taking a delicate sip of his own water bottle. “Etiquette-wise, don’t forget that you must always stay a step or two behind her when keeping company with her.”

“I know you have a great sense of humor, Aryavain,” Maxwell murmured. “But she does not. So, if you only have something snarky to say—”

“ _Don’t_.” Bertrand cut him off, sharply, placing emphasis on her not being sassy. “Ultimately, she’s concerned about how the Prince’s bride will be partly responsible for Cordonia’s future. Keep that in mind when talking to her.”

“Got it,” she murmured, picking at the label on the water bottle.

“I hope you do,” Bertrand said. “You might have performed well with the press, but remember, Aryavain, it only takes one slip-up to tear apart the reputation you’ve built.”

She frowned down at the label she was picking apart, wondering again what she had gotten herself into. Maxwell took her hand, comfortingly, letting her lean her head against his shoulder as they drove towards the picnic. It didn’t take long to arrive at the grounds for the picnic, but that may have been because she had managed to take a tiny nap, while leaning heavily against Maxwell’s shoulder. Stepping out of the limo, Maxwell took her arm, leading her past the entrance where she looked around stunned. In one section of the manicured lawn, several cloth canopies were erected, with tables covered in white linen evenly spaced. A string quartet played delightfully whimsical music, throwing the entire thing into a picturesque scene.

“It looks like something right out of Downtown Abbey,” she gushed, squeezing Maxwell’s arm in delight.

“ _You’ve_ been to an abbey?” Bertrand said, surprised. “I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s a TV show, brother. Pretty good, if I say so myself. Very upstairs, downstairs, that sort of thing,” Maxwell explained, winking at her.

“ _Television_?” Bertrand exclaimed, his lip curling in a sneer. “Do _not_ bring it up with the Queen. Now, Aryavain, go stand over there with the rest of the ladies in the receiving line.”

Waiting until his back was turned, she rolled her eyes dramatically at him, sharing a smile with Maxwell before making her way to stand near the other noble ladies. Hana noticed her, moving to sidle up beside her, grabbing her hands letting out a small laugh.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she whispered, indicating the tables. Aryavain nodded, opening her mouth to reply, when a bored voice caught their attention.

“Cutting it awfully close there.”

Looking up at the taller redhead, she followed her gaze to see the herald move forward to announce the arrival of the Queen. Side-eying Hana, she stifled a snorted laugh, as the Queen approached. Looking at Queen Regina, Aryavain felt a little better for her height, noticing that the Queen was just as small as she was—but Aryavain could only wish to hold the attention that this woman managed to hold. She was beautiful, which meant that in her prime she would have been traffic-stopping, giving off a Marilyn Monroe vibe.

“Welcome, all!” she said, not needing to raise her voice any higher: she had everyone’s attention instantly. “I’m so delighted you could join us this afternoon.”

With her short greeting, she moved through the crowd, greeting the guests nearest her. Walking next to Regina, on her left, was a beautiful blonde woman, with perfect poise. Hana leaned closer to Aryavain, whispering quiet enough that only she heard.

“I wonder who that lady with the Queen is.”

Aryavain eyed the woman, looking over her features, snapping her fingers when she finally recognized her. “Madeleine.”

“ _Countess_ Madeleine of Fydelia to you.” Olivia yawned delicately behind her hand, bored by the talk of the woman. “If you haven’t heard of her, then you really are behind the times.”

Penelope gasped, speaking to them in a hushed whisper. “Her name was all over the tabloids at one point. She was betrothed to the former Crown Prince until he _abdicated_.”

“It was particularly embarrassing for her to be thrown over like that,” Kiara added, sadly. “She was the one who was chosen during that social season, after all. To go through all that and not be royal.”

“Poor thing must be the Queen’s guest as a consolation prize,” Olivia murmured, not even bothering to hide the cold smile that graced her features.

The Queen made it to the line of suitors, making her way down the line, one by one, taking a moment to talk to each, until finally, she stood in front of Aryavain. Taking a step forward, she curtsied low.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Majesty,” she murmured.

“This is the one I was telling you about, Ma’am,” Madeleine said, quietly, eyeing her without a single feature twitching.

“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Aryavain Lightfoot,” Regina said. Passing her gaze over her, it took a moment before she smiled. “The press speaks well of you. It takes a great effort to manage one’s image so responsibly. Not to speak of the attire you chose. _Brava_.

“Touting you as ‘The Mystery Woman’, someone who they can’t quite figure out,” she added, pursing her lips. “I hope you realize no one can remain a mystery long when they are a public servant and must attend to the people.”

Aryavain nodded, ducking her head. “Of course, ma’am. Trust me when I say I’d take my service quite seriously.”

The Queen eyed her, curious. “Lady Aryavain, tell me, what do you think is the best quality for a ruler to have?”

“The best quality should be a sense of duty,” she responded, smoothly. “Loyalty to the kingdom you represent and the people you serve will carry you through any crisis.”

The Queen’s lips twitched. “Good answer.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Governance is not to be taken lightly. You will be bombarded daily by a hundred little decisions,” the Queen said. “Few will be glamorous, and many will weigh on you. Loyalty to the kingdom and to the people must guide your every decision.

“As heads of state, we have a responsibility to the people. The press acts as their eyes,” she continued. “We must always portray a sense of calm and dignity. If the rulers appear in control, then everyone will be reassured. Hysteria benefits nobody. Do you agree?”

“Ma’am, I believe that a stoic leader makes for a stoic people,” Aryavain responded, taking her time to make sure it came out right.

“Precisely. We must set the example, which is why we must not enable the scandal-hunting impulses of the press,” Regina said, giving her a sincere smile. Aryavain smiled back, feeling as if she passed a test of sorts.

“Ma’am,” Madeline interjected. “I hate to interrupt, but it’s time to begin the game.”

The Queen turned to the blonde woman and nodded. “Yes, thank you for reminding me.” She turned to the rest of the guests, lifting her voice to grab everyone’s attention. “Everyone, please, follow me. It’s time to begin the ceremonial croquet match.

“Know that one of you will be the next queen, and I expect you to represent Cordonia well,” the Queen said, looking over the ladies, sternly. “Madeleine here has been the embodiment of dignity and devotion. It is my hope that you may all learn from her example.”

Madeleine smiled brightly, a genuine smile, something that made her absolutely stunning. “Thank you, ma’am.”

The Queen moved towards the field, the ladies trailing after her, creating a procession behind her. They come around a bend, and the Queen moved to turn, threatening to bump into Aryavain. They come around a bend, and Regina moved to turn, threatening to bump into Aryavain. Easily taking a step back, Aryavain managed to stay behind the Queen, glancing up to see a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. Coming to a stop, she gestured for the ladies to take a seat in the chairs positioned on the edge of the field, beneath umbrellas; the rest of the ladies all sat down, taking sips of lemonade on the tables beside their chairs. Aryavain settled between Hana and Olivia. Prince Liam came across the field then, greeting each of the suitors in turn, before stopping in front of the Queen, taking her hand, and bringing it to his forehead.

Aryavain smiled watching them together, Regina smiled at him, fondly; regardless of them not having any blood relation, they had a remarkable relationship. Liam stepped away from her, standing on the opposite side of her from Madeleine, his gaze focused completely on Aryavain, pulling a shy smile from her.

“Custom has it that the Queen and the Prince play a round of croquet with two of the season’s suitors,” Queen Regina said, turning to smile at Madeleine. “I have chosen Madeleine as my partner.”

A flurry of whispers breaks out from the crowd, some of the suitors trying to hide looks of outrage. Aryavain watched it quietly, having had an inkling that this was the case.

“She’s a suitor?” Penelope whispered to Kiara.

“ _Pas bon!_ ” Kiara responded, surprise written all over her face.

Olivia let out a disgusted noise. “That scheming little—”

Madeleine just continued to smile; her hands clasped in front of her. Aryavain eyed her curiously, envious of her poise. She could completely understand why she was back in contention to be a queen-to-be, she had the same type of air around her that Queen Regina did. It was hard to miss.

“As for myself,” Liam spoke up, his gaze having never left hers. “I shall choose Lady Aryavain.”

She felt a grin stretch her lips as she stood up, walking over, and curtsying in front of the Queen and Prince. Ignoring Olivia’s snappy remark, and Penelope’s subsequent hushing, her and Liam separated from Queen Regina and Madeleine to pick up mallets, moving to the beginning of the field. Liam walked close beside her, allowing them to have as private a moment as they could.

“Looks like we found another way to steal a few moments,” he murmured, beaming at her.

She smiled, glancing away to swing the mallet, her eyes widening at the weight behind it. “I don’t want to cause you alarm or anything, but I don’t know how to play croquet. American football? Baseball? Yes. Croquet? No.”

He laughed, delighted in the calm way in which she said it. “No worries. Just follow my lead. Hit your ball through the same hoop as mine, and you’ll be fine.”

She frowned down at her mallet, then squinted at the arches embedded in the grass. “Just so we’re clear, hoops are the little arch-shaped things in the ground, right?”

“Right!” he said with another laugh. “Come on, we’re up.”

Liam stepped up and smoothly knocked his ball through the hoop. Following suit behind him, Aryavain set up her shot, gently tapping the ball, sending it through the hoop. She felt a surge of excitement, turning towards Liam with a giant smile.

“Nice swing,” he said, looking at her longingly, and she felt that look like a yearning.

The game proceeded that way, bringing the two of them closer, as they laughed about the game, and talked about easy things: likes and interests. Ahead of them, Regina and Madeleine appeared to be deep in conversation together, their faces serious. While Liam took the time to set up his next shot, Aryavain pushed her shoulders back and approached them.

“Am I interrupting anything?” she asked, gently, ready to turn around.

“No,” Madeleine said. “We were simply discussing how to best undress when meeting with ministers during the coucher.”

Aryavain choked on the lemonade she had just taken a sip of, waving off the alarmed servant, instead just handing him the glass. With tears in her eyes, she managed to take a deep breathe, and then ask, breathlessly, “We do what now?”

“Oh, goodness, Madeleine,” Regina laughed. “You’re too funny.”

“Forgive me, Aryavain, it was only a joke,” Madeleine said, smiling prettily. “I hope you won’t begrudge us a small laugh at your expense.”

“Now, let’s give Aryavain the opportunity to speak her mind,” Queen Regina said, holding her mallet on the ground in front of her. “Tell me your thoughts on governance, my dear.”

“Governance is an art lost on most,” she responded, with a shrug.

“A sad truth,” the Queen murmured, sharing a smile with her.

At that moment, Liam called her over, indicating her ball. “Apologies for interrupting your conversation, but I believe it’s your turn,” he murmured, holding back a smile. “No pressure or anything, but if you hit the peg in the center, we’ll win the game!”

Aryavain looked up at him, grinning, before she unfortunately heard Bertrand’s voice in her ear telling her that she needed to impress the Queen. As she set her shot up, she warred between her choices: win the game or lose it? Which would give her the most respect. She glanced back at the Queen who was watching with a polite smile on her face. _Unreadable_ , she thought, closing her eyes, and taking a deep breath.

Deciding on the higher risk option, Aryavain hit the ball squarely, holding her breath until she heard the delicate sound of the ball hitting the peg. She looked over at Liam, pulling the mallet to rest against her shoulder, posing as if on a trophy, pulling a delighted laugh from him.

“I believe that means victory is ours,” he murmured, stepping in front of her, and taking her mallet from her. She noticed his gaze looking over her shoulder, and she turned to see the Queen walking up to her, a soft smile pulling her lips.

“I’m glad you had the guts to finish the game,” she said, handing her mallet to an attendant who had rushed up. “Too many ladies have thrown the game on purpose to impress me. That’s why I made a _point_ to lose this match.”

Aryavain smiled, bouncing in a curtsy. “Thank you, ma’am. I must say, I have a new appreciation for this game. It’s delightfully calming.”

Queen Regina’s smile widened. “I’m glad to hear. Happier to know you passed my test. I’m sure we’ll have times in the future where we’ll find ourselves on opposing sides.

“Next time, though, I expect we won’t be simply playing croquet,” she added. Her smile turned sly. “And I won’t be holding back.”

When the attendant finished taking all of their mallets, Regina waited until he had moved from within earshot before saying, “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Lightfoot. You’ve shown yourself to be unlike many of the ladies at court, which is no small feat in my eyes.”

“You honor me, ma’am,” Aryavain said, bowing her head, respectfully.

The Queen turned and addressed the rest of the suitors, who had not been paying attention to the game. She thanked them for coming, before turning with Madeleine and retiring behind some bodyguards while the rest of the ladies moved towards the tables for tea. Liam took her hand, leading her towards a table, pulling her chair out for her. She caught his eye as he gazed at her, tilting her head before she bit her lip, flushing brightly.

Hana approached the table, touching Aryavain’s shoulder. “Prince Liam, Aryavain, that was well played!”

“Thank you, Lady Hana,” Liam said, seeing the familiarity the two women had. “Won’t you sit with us?”

“I would love to!” she said, sitting primly in one of the seats. As the tea and sandwiches were served. Maxwell flopped into a seat beside Hana, taking a sandwich immediately, followed by Drake sitting down on Aryavain’s other side.

Maxwell moaned around his mouthful of sandwich. “We _finally_ get to eat!”

Drake rolled his eyes, picking up a sandwich, eyeing it suspiciously. Aryavain watched him sniff the sandwich, letting out a huff of laugher. He looked at her, his eyebrows furrowed in a glower, and she just smiled, sweetly. Taking a sip of her tea, she jumped when Drake’s leg pressed heavily against hers, a scorching heat against her bare leg. Liam, Maxwell, and Hana were having a conversation about croquet and tea, something that confused her in how they were related, and she turned to Drake, putting her hand high on his thigh, suppressing a smile when he went rigid.

“Aryavain, do you think you impressed the Queen?” Maxwell asked. She pulled her hand from Drake’s thigh, adjusting the napkin in her lap as she thought about the question, ignoring the way Drake let out a long breath.

“I think I impressed her,” she said, taking a bite of a cucumber sandwich.

“Fantastic!” Maxwell crowed, clutching his heart, dramatically. “It’s like watching a bird learning to fly on its own.”

She rolled her eyes at him, before turning to Liam. “Do you think the Queen approves of me?”

He swallowed his sip of tea, saying, “Yes, I think you performed quite gracefully in front of her.”

“Enough about Red,” Drake grumbled, shoving her playfully with his shoulder. “All the little sandwiches are gone, and I’m still starving.”

“There’s more food waiting for us back at the palace,” Maxwell said, looking at the empty tray of sandwiches, miserably.

Aryavain sighed, after sipping her tea. “I could really go for a cronut right now.”

Liam looked at her, bewildered. “A _what_?”

“I think you mean donut, Aryavain,” Hana said.

Aryavain looked around the table, her eyebrows rising when she passed each person. “You haven’t heard of cronuts before?”

Looking around the table again, she was met by shrugs. “Okay, guys, we have a critical problem to fix. None of you have had cronuts.”

“Please tell me it doesn’t have anything to do with crows?” Maxwell asked, looking a little sad.

“What?” Aryavain asked, before holding her hand up, and shaking her head. “It’s the sumptuous inside of a croissant mixed with the glazed outside of a donut. It’s one of the best pastries ever invented.”

“It sounds,” Maxwell paused dramatically. “ _American_.”

“From New York, with love,” she said, cheerfully. “We have to get some!”

Liam smiled at her, touching her knee beneath the table. “While that sounds like quite an adventure, I don’t think the schedule will allow for it.”

While the rest of them took a sip of their tea, with Drake sneaking sips of whiskey from his flask, she pushed her lip out as she thought. With a gasp, she grabbed Drake’s wrist, startling him. She grinned up at him, the mischievous glint back in her eyes.

“While I’m sure that look means something deviant,” Drake rumbled by her ear. “I was not aware that you had a grip like the Hulk.”

She let go of his wrist, patting it gently, letting out a laugh. “How about a little jail break tonight? Think we can sneak out of the palace and go on a cronut run?” she asked, leaning into the table to whisper. “I’m pretty sure I saw them in a window at a nearby bakery while we were driving here.”

“That _does_ sound like fun,” Hana murmured, softly.

“Very tempting,” Liam agreed. “Are you sure you want to do this, Aryavain?”

“Meet me at the front of the palace once its dark,” she said, putting a finger to her lips. “It’s time to have an adventure!”

“Well, I’m sold,” Liam said, finishing off his tea.

“Me, too!” Maxwell chimed in instantly.

Drake took another swig from his flask, before saying, “It’ll be fun to spend some time away from the Palace, doing non-noble things.”

**

Waiting out front of the palace, she sat on the stone bannister, swinging her legs, as Drake leaned against it beside her, while Hana stood primly, with Maxwell between them lounged on the steps. He let out a loud groan, impatiently.

“Prince Liam sure is taking a long time,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

“He’s a _prince_ ,” Drake growled, shoving at the noble with his foot. “We’ll be lucky if he can sneak out at all.”

“There he is!” Hana whispered, trying not to draw attention to them.

“You made it!” Aryavain said, hopping down from her perch, fixing her leather jacket.

Liam grimaced at Drake, rubbing his shoulder. “It’s been a while since I’ve had to sneak out my bedroom window.” He let out a laugh, as they moved as a group towards the car Drake had managed to ‘borrow’. “I nearly fell into the rose bushes, but I stand before you—sore—but unscathed.”

“And now!” Aryavain exclaimed, holding the door to the car open for them. “The real adventure begins!”

Maxwell, Liam, and Hana all moved into the backseat, while Aryavain took the front passenger, with Drake behind the wheel. She turned in her seat grinning back at them.

“You don’t know what you’ve been missing out on!” she said, excitedly.

“ _Seatbelt_ ,” Drake growled, putting the car into drive, and moving through the gates. She rolled her eyes, settling back into her seat, clicking the safety belt into place.

“Yes, _Daddy_ ,” she mocked. She watched his fingers tighten on the steering wheel, and his ears turn a brilliant shade of red, causing her to be speechless at her body’s reaction to his. She let out a soft, “ _Oh!_ ”

He shot her a look, one that had her breath hitching, her entire body flushing red. Turning back to the road, he growled, “ _Behave_ , Red.”

She made an agreeable noise, and she watched him visibly relax. Instead of teasing him further, she joined in the conversation in the back, talking about wild adventures of sneaking out as teenagers. In the middle of describing a fantastic plot to sneak out, Drake interrupted Maxwell, letting them know that they were as close as they could get the car. Hopping out, Aryavain crossed the front of the car, reaching Drake. He eyed her suspiciously.

“Do we need to talk about this?” she asked quietly, as they followed Maxwell and his GPS down the beach.

“No.” Drake’s voice was final, rougher than usual. She frowned for a moment, then nodded her head, the two of them falling into step with their friends.

“Is it just me, or is it more fun to be out at night when you’re also breaking the rules?” Maxwell asked, leading the pack, bouncing with every step.

Hana clapped, delightedly. “It’s more fun when you know you’re headed to something delicious!”

Taking a deep breath in, Liam held his arms out, breathing in the fresh air. “After a day spent answering to the press and the Queen, this is the sweetest freedom.”

“It’s about to get sweeter,” Aryavain crooned.

Maxwell threw open the door to the café, far too excitable, proclaiming their need for cronuts. Aryavain rolled her eyes, shoving him towards a table, before moving to the counter. Once the cronuts were ordered and finished, she took them back to the table, handing them out, deciding to tease Maxwell by holding his away from him. Finally settling into a seat beside Drake, her leg brushed against his.

“Watch it, Red,” he rumbled, looking pointedly at her leg. “You’re on _my_ side.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, putting her elbow on the table, her fist on her cheek, as she leaned heavily against it. “Did I miss the part where you own this bakery?”

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “You don’t let anything go, do you?”

She smiled, sweetly, before biting into her cronut. “Nope.”

“I thought I told you to ‘behave’,” he said, a smirk pulling at his lips. She winked at him, before taking another bite of her cronut, humming happily.

“Well, these look delicious,” Liam murmured, taking a moment to look at the pastry on his plate.

Maxwell already had his stuffed completely in his mouth, moaning around it, pulling a giggle from Hana. He tried mumbling words around the mouthful, causing Drake to throw a napkin at him.

“I really must take some of these back home,” Hana said, taking a delicate bite of her cronut. “I’ve never tasted anything so light and fluffy and sweet!”

“This rivals the finest pastries from the palace chefs,” Liam commented. He looked over at Drake and laughed. “Even Drake is smiling.”

“What?” Drake asked, trying hard to hide the smile. “I like a good dessert. Who doesn’t?”

Aryavain pulled out her phone, snapping a picture of him smiling, causing him to instantly scowl at her. She beamed at him, scrunching her nose, childishly. His eyes narrowed, as he took the final bite of his pastry.

“The last time I had something _this_ good, Bertrand hired a pastry chef from a Michelin-starred restaurant to make his birthday cake,” Maxwell said, eyeing the rest of the cronuts, sadly.

“Wait,” Aryavain said, putting her cronut down. “Bertrand used to actually _have fun_?”

Maxwell chuckled, reaching out to try and steal her pastry. She slapped his hand, shoving the rest in her mouth. “He wasn’t always like he is now.”

“There was a time when Bertrand would’ve been here with us tonight,” Liam mused, finishing off his own cronut.

“Really?”

Liam frowned as he finished chewing. “We were all close, once. But he’s grown distant in the past few years.”

“Aw, he’s gonna be fine,” Maxwell said, plucking a napkin into pieces. “He’s just sorting some things out. You know what? I’ll even bring him back a cronut.”

Hana smiled at him. “That’s sweet of you.”

Drake snorted. “It _sounds_ sweet, but we’ll see if that cronut actually makes it back to the palace.”

“I hope you’re not implying I’d eat my brother’s cronut,” Maxwell sniffed, offended.

Drake stared at him. “Wouldn’t you?”

Maxwell shrugged. “It’s the thought that counts, anyway, right?”

“This was a wonderful idea, Aryavain,” Hana said.

“Should always put your faith in me,” she responded, leaning back far enough in her chair, to lift two legs off the floor. Drake grabbed her leg, pushing her back so all four legs of the chair were firmly on the ground. She scrunched her face at him but didn’t lean back that far again.

“We should sneak out more often,” Drake murmured.

“I wish I could,” Liam laughed. He glanced down at his watch and frowned. “We should be heading back though, it’s pretty late.”

“Don’t want the kingdom to panic over a missing prince?” Aryavain teased.

“It might cause just a tiny problem,” he rebounded, winking at her.

Drake snorted. “Historians will tell of the day when Cordonia nearly collapsed because the Prince went out for cronuts.”

They all laughed, before getting up and leaving the café. Walking along the sand-speckled sidewalk, Aryavain paused to retie the laces on her shoe, when she noticed a lurking shadow. Looking up sharply, she saw the familiar form of Bastien, Liam’s personal bodyguard.

“Bastien? What are you doing here?” Liam asked, startled by his presence.

“You can’t leave without security, Prince Liam,” he responded, smoothly.

Aryavain snorted, turning to Liam with wry smile. “You could have just walked out the front door.”

Bastien smiled at her. “I was assigned to your bother, Your Highness. I’ve seen every trick in the book.”

Liam frowned. “I’m sorry to have troubled you.”

“Like I said, I was assigned to your brother before you. Compared to him, you’re hardly any trouble at all,” Bastien said, his smile widening. “You go on ahead, Your Highness. I’ll trail behind and keep an eye on things.”

“Thank you, Bastien,” Liam murmured.

They all started making their way back to the car, Liam walking ahead with Hana and Maxwell, trading embarrassing stories that she could never even hope to understand, Aryavain fell into step beside Drake, trailing behind them. Drake shoved his hands in his pockets, brushing her shoulder, gently.

“Well, you win this round, Red,” he murmured.

She grinned up at him, her voice teasing, as she said, “Don’t tell me that even big, bad Drake thinks that cronuts are worth the hype.”

Drake grinned down at her, his voice light, as he said, “I can admit when someone else is right. It’s one of my charms.”

“I didn’t know you had any,” she mused, thoughtfully. She smiled, as she side-eyed him. “Charms, I mean.”

He let out an exaggerated laugh, shoving his shoulder into her, gently. “You’re kind of funny, you know that?”

“Drake,” she murmured after a moment. “I’m glad you managed to join us. I thought there might be too many nobles in one spot for you.”

“And pass up a chance to get away from the palace?” he asked, letting out a laugh. “You should know me better than that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Most of our conversations are you saying ‘Behave, Red’; I hardly think that qualifies as knowing you.”

He frowned, his pace slowing down, pulling away from the three nobles laughing ahead of them. “Being around the nobility has that effect on me.” He gestured around them, taking in the soft energy around them. “Look at this. Everything’s better away from the palace. No stiff etiquette, no having to watch your back all the time. We can be ourselves out here.”

He had come to a stop, smiling as he looked around him. She smiled warmly at him, touching his arm gently. She couldn’t help herself teasing him though, “Are you saying you can be less negative?”

He stepped closer to her, until she had to tilt her head back further to meet his gaze. “I’m saying you’re more fun when you’re not trying to play princess,” he rumbled with a smile.

“Hey!” Maxwell called back, pulling their attention. Aryavain’s eyebrows lifted as she realized how far ahead the three nobles had gotten. “Catch up or we’ll leave you behind!”

“Shame,” Drake said, as they started walking towards the car again. “I was enjoying myself.”

She gasped, grabbing his wrist, pulling him to a stop to place her hand on his forehead. “Are you feeling okay? Are you sick? You _admitted_ to having fun!”

He rolled his eyes, smiling gently down at her. He wrapped a hand in her hair, tugging her head back, so he could trace the column of her throat with his other hand, earning a whine from her.

“Careful, little Red,” he growled, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Wouldn’t want anyone to know you’re friends with the wolf.”

Her eyes lit up, and she let out a breathy laugh. “So, we _are_ friends!”

He huffed out a laugh, letting her go and striding back towards the group. “Last Red to the group owes me a drink!”

She let out a laugh before tearing passed him in a full out run, racing him to their friends. Earning cheers as she _just_ beat him.

**

The next morning, she was woken up abruptly by insistent knocking on her door, causing her to fall out of bed. With a groan, she took a moment to gather her bearings, before throwing on a sweatshirt, and opening her door, to Maxwell and Bertrand.

“Rise and shine, Aryavain!” Maxwell said, cheerily. She grimaced at his cheerfulness. She grumbled some noises, stepping back to let them in her room.

“I’ll assume that was the appropriate morning greeting followed by the proper use of my title,” Bertrand said, positively cheerful.

“Why so cheery?” she grumbled, stifling a yawn.

“We just heard where the next social event will be, and if we’re going to arrive there with everyone else, we should get packed!” Maxwell said, looking none the less for wear despite their late-night shenanigans. “It’s going to be fun!”

“Where are we going?” she asked, pulling a brush through her hair.

“To the northern region of Cordonia! To the snow!” he said excitedly.

“Snow?” she asked, perking up. “I love snow!”

“I wouldn’t celebrate so soon. The family that’s hosting us up there, the place we’re staying at, belongs to the Lythikos duchy,” Bertrand said, watching her brush her hair distastefully. She eyed him, shaking her head, not understanding.

“You’re about to go straight into Olivia’s home territory,” he said, stiffly. “If you want to get time with Prince Liam, you’re going to have to beat her at her own game.”

“Shit,” she grumbled.


End file.
